


Broken Memories

by FalseRoar



Series: Can You Wake Up? [7]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mark Fischbach Egos, Memory Loss, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Second Person, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Sean McLoughlin Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseRoar/pseuds/FalseRoar
Summary: When Darkiplier and Anti strike a deal, you find yourself haunted by memories of what happened at Markiplier Manor and new nightmares you just can't seem to shake. But what you can remember isn't as concerning as what you, and the people around you, are beginning to forget.





	1. Deal with the Devil

There wasn’t much there, in the darkness. Not that he needed anything to survive here, in this reality carved out and folded in on itself, a pocket of the void and ringing silence that always surrounded him, but knowing that he had complete control of this place, that he could have made it into anything and settled for _this_, was just disappointing.

There was a sense of a desk and a chair, and if you weren’t paying attention the dark edges of his space might be mistaken for the walls of his office back in the real world, instead of the sharp edge between his little refuge and the swirling madness outside. It was probably supposed to be a subtle reminder that he was in control here, just as he had once been in that place but, well, they both knew how that turned out.

“B̷͔͐ȯ̴̲̖̽͂̃ring,” Anti declared as he sat on the desk, letting his legs dangle down. Here in the darkness the static around him seemed to glow a sickly green, leaving traces in the air as his legs swung back and forth. He gestured outward, to where they both could feel the swirling pink madness of Wilford Warfstache’s “reality” and said, “Maybe you should take some cues from t̷͔̃h̶aț̷̓ g̷̪͆u̶y, add some c̨̲̘͚̖͍o̗l̨̘̻͖̥̖͍͓o̱̝͕͚̠̩͓r̨͔͎̘ͅ to this place.”

Dark scowled and pushed his chair back from the desk a little to put some distance between the two of them. “I did not invite you here for decorating advice.”

“R̸̽ͅeally?” Anti asked. He began to twirl a knife between his fingers, the blade catching the flickering light from his static and seeming to gleam even in this place. There had been no sign of the knife before this, but Dark barely reacted to its sudden appearance. “Because Ỉ̶ think a splash of r͂̃ͫe̓̇ͣ̋d͊ͤ̎ would really liven the place up.”

“Are you offering to cut your throat again? Because as amusing as that would be, some of us have better uses for our time.”

Anti laughed, the sound breaking and scattering as if coming from multiple directions at once as its pitch shifted up. “Looks to m̵͉͆e like you have all the time in the world in your new little k̷͎̃in̶gd̵̲͐o̷̊m. I just stopped by to see if you have any messages for your old fri̴͚͛e̵̘̔nd̵̫̊s.”

“So, Jack is in town with the others,” Dark said, as if Anti had just confirmed a suspicion. “How is your host doing?”

Anti shrugged with a scowl, his body twitching so that for a moment it looked as though he had one hand to his own scarred neck, the other holding the knife still and pointed at himself before he returned to his previous relaxed position, the knife still twirling blade over handle between his fingers. “Relaxing with friends, f͝ǫ̷̕r̛ ͡no̶w̨.”

He smiled, his eyes flickering to turn completely black as he added, “He’ll be getting a sų̴r̡͝prise before long.”

“Yes, yes, you have a few minutes, maybe even a few hours where you’re in control and you can put that blade of yours to some real use,” Dark said, gesturing as if he were talking about the weather instead of attempted murder and torture. “Can you even call that a ‘surprise’ anymore? Sounds more like an inconvenience to me.”

“More than y̆͒̇͗ͪo̊͌ͮuͪ̒͑̈̔̚ can do here,” Anti pointed out. He tapped the tip of the knife against his chin as he mused aloud, “I wonder which of Mark’s boys will b̸l҉eed the most? Some of them are fri̺̦e͉̰̹nds with my p̘̫̬u͚̜̱͟p̗͕̫p̪͠e̲̺̤t̝͎̻ͅs̳̗, you know, and it would be a shame to leave them out of my little g̖̦̹̦a̪̝̙̼͕̼̯m̼̗͙͓e̠͙̖̱͍ .”

Dark exhaled slowly, his eyes tightening slightly as his aura expanded around himself, becoming a large red afterimage behind his body that moved slightly out of sync as he said, “Don’t you want more than that?”

Anti studied him, although his frequent glitching made it impossible to read his thoughts. “I’m list͢e͍̙n̜ing.”

“I need something, something from the physical world so that I can get out of this place. You bring it to me, and I will give you the power to take control of your host.”

Anti slammed his knife point first into the desk but Dark did not even flinch. “I _have_ c̛on̕͠t͞ŗol! Jack’s body is w̻̫̹͉͚e̻̘̲͝a̡͎͔̰k̥̖͖̙̰̗͝, I can take him or any of my other puppets anytime I want.”

“I mean _real_ control,” Dark said, staring straight into Anti’s solid black, inhuman eyes. “Their body will be yours for as long as you want, as many times as you want. No resistance, no fighting back.”

Anti tilted his head too far to the right, stretching his scar out as he considered.

Dark smiled and gestured at his own body. “It worked for me, after all.”

“Right, the District Attorney,” Anti said. He pretended to struggle to recall your name for a second, watching Dark carefully as he said, “ Y̶/̷̕N̴?”

Dark’s red afterimage split as blue overtook it, the two swirling and almost appearing white before settling into their regular outlines around his body. “That is correct. And they’re going to get me out of here again.”

Anti smirked to himself and pried his knife out of the desk, leaving a messy gouge mark that quickly faded from the not entirely real surface. “Tell you what: I’ll h̡̢̕el̵͞p̢̕ you get out of this place. In return, y̷̼͓̟o̞͓̰̹͟ų show me your trick, and let me have one of your puppets to do w̵h͞ąt̡e̛ver I want with it.”

_“What?”_ Dark scowled as he stood up, his aura expanding into a massive afterimage again.

Anti hopped down from the desk so that they were now roughly eye to eye and met his glare, his eyes no longer black but the irises glowed with a sharp, distinct green. “Aw, can’t s̜p̫̲͎a̘ŗ̜̠̯e one? You have so many. Or are they all too p̵̩͈͉̬ͅr̰̩͙̳̝̕e͓̤̰c͏̣̖̹͎̭i̴o̧̳̞̥̙̬̭̗u̳͙̠s to you?”

“Only because I have my own plans for them when I get back,” Dark said, but from the glitch’s expression he knew that he wasn’t going to budge on this.

Of course, he could make all the promises he wanted here; once he was out of this place, he would make sure this glitch would suffer for trying to bargain with him. So, for now, he would play along.

“_One._ But you can not lay a finger on Mark, Wilford, the Host, Dr. Iplier, or the Googles,” Dark said. His aura flared at each of the names. “They turned the others against me, and I have something…_special_ in mind for each of them.”

“Â͋̾̀̄ͤ̅ll̑ͩ͢ of the Googles?” Anti asked. “Aren’t there like f̨ǫ̛u̴ŗ of them?”

“Not when I’m through with them.”

Anti laughed, the sound even more unsettling a second time, but he stuck out his hand, the tattoo on his forearm twisting and turning with each twitch of his system.

“You have a d̅̒͋ͬ̂́͞eͯͥ̍ͥ̑͞aͮ̔̈ͬͩl̶̄͝ , Darkiplier.”

Dark and Anti smiled, both already planning how to betray the other as their hands clasped in the darkness, the green static and the red and blue aura tearing into each other as they mixed and clashed together.


	2. Permission Denied

Back in a slightly more sane reality, you shot up at the sound of your name, blinking at the sunlight that was now hitting you right in the face.

“Y/N? Did you sleep out here again?” Mark asked, looking at you from the door to the garage.

“Maybe?” You rubbed at your eyes, shivering a little at the cold sweat that dripped down your back which had nothing to do with the insane summer heat of LA.

_“How?”_ Mark asked, staring at you sitting inside of the white van known as the Barrel. “Do you know how hot it is out here?”

“I had a fan on,” you said, pointing at the dinky little fan on the floor aimed at the open door of the van. It did not do much.

Mark sighed, knowing from experience that arguing with you about this wouldn’t do any good. Sleeping out here in the van made you feel safer, especially after nights like last night. After nightmares like that one, where you were back in the house, back to trying to find a way out, trying to force your way through doors that refused to open, trying every single door and window you could find in that place.

Well, all except one.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d had some version of that nightmare since you escaped the mirror, but going by how often Mark found you out here in the van just when you were staying at his house, it was definitely happening more often. Back at the ego house, the closet was your go-to place when the nightmares became too much. It was a little weird to admit that you almost missed the pervasive scent of pumpkin and guava that was the van when you were in the closet.

Not that you told Mark any of this as you climbed out of the van and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Too early for this,” Mark muttered as someone else answered from behind him, “It is 6:37 am.”

“Google? What are you doing here?” you asked, freezing mid stretch.

Before any of the four Googles could answer, Bing brushed by them and threw an arm around your shoulder. Somewhere behind him you also spotted Chase leaning against the door frame, looking like he would much rather be in bed right now. “‘Suh, dude! We’re here to, like, fix your van!”

“What?” you asked.

You and Mark had figured out there was something wrong with the Barrel after the smoke and the puddle of something pink dripping out of the van, but Mark sounded almost accusing when he asked, “Did you ask Google to fix the van?”

“No,” you said quickly. You were not allowed to ask Google for anything after what happened last time, something you had very much agreed to. “_No_, definitely not. I just thought about it yesterday and asked Bing if he could recommend some mechanics in the area. I figured we could take the van one day when you weren’t busy and—”

“You asked _Bing_,” the blue-shirted Google said, disgust dripping from his normally emotionless voice as the other Googles shook their head in unison. “When I was right there.”

“No, you weren’t,” you pointed out. “You weren’t even in the same room with us, and then I turn around and you’re staring at me like something out of the Terminator.”

“Oh, dude, we had a marathon of those on one of our movie nights!” Bing said, smiling. “Totally freaked Ed Edgar out, so, like, Google and I, we waited until everyone was asleep and then we snuck into his room and he wakes up and there’s like five sets of glowing red eyes just staring at him and Google says—”

“That Bing is an idiot and an inferior choice when it comes to information retrieval,” Google interrupted.

“Nah, you say that all the time,” Bing said.

“So why are you here?” Mark asked, running a hand down his face. He was normally up early, before you most days, but right now he sounded like he could just go back to bed and pretend like none of this was happening.

“Google got jealous and after Y/N left started looking up all of this stuff about fixing vehicles,” Chase answered. “Bing offered to come along, and I was promised coffee.”

“Jealousy is a human error,” Google corrected. “We just came to the logical assumption that we are much more capable of fixing this machine than some human, and to the equally logical conclusion that Bing could suck it.”

The red-shirted Google chimed in to add, “We also did not promise coffee.”

Chase groaned and slid to the ground. “Then what is even the point of anything?”

“Look, you old fart,” Bing said, trying to look all four Googles in the eye at the same time and failing, “It’s pretty obvious who the preferred choice was. Maybe you just need to admit that upgrade was all aesthetic and nothing under the hood.”

“You are default,” Google said. “No one chooses you when there’s another alternative.”

“Yeah, well, Y/N chose me,” Bing pointed out. “Because I’ve got safe search while Y/N’s been denied access to your data banks.”

“That is by definition not a choice,” Google pointed out, the green-shirted one this time.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “Denied access, what does that mean?”

Google scowled, servers whirring as he forced himself not to answer your question.

“I might have changed your permissions after the whole three questions thing,” Mark said quickly, not quite looking you in the eye as he changed the subject and grabbed Chase’s arm. “Hey, let’s get this guy some coffee, let the robots fight it out or start an uprising or whatever it is they do and talk about something else.”

“Is that true?” you asked Google, but he looked in four different directions “No, no, don’t pretend like you suddenly can’t hear me, you spoke to me like two seconds ago.”

“User no longer has permission to access our services,” the yellow-shirted Google said when none of the others spoke up. “Please talk to your administrator.”

“Oh, I will,” you muttered as you followed after Mark and Chase, missing the smirk on Google’s face before Bing started egging him on again.

By the time you caught up with him in the kitchen, Mark had dropped Chase into one of the chairs and was already prepared to stop you before you could speak.

“It was just to be on the safe side, that’s all,” Mark said, holding up the tin of coffee as if in self-defense while the coffee maker started heating the water behind him. “You know how Google is, he’ll twist anything you say or ask him to get what he wants, and let’s be honest, he spent a lot of time with Dark, and I’m not _entirely _sure we got all of that programming out of him because there is a lot going on there and the last time I suggested a hard reboot he slapped me—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, cutting Mark off because he was showing no sign of stopping on his own. Looking back now you could tell that the Googles had been avoiding you, but considering the android wasn’t the kind of person to chat unless he had a reason for it, you hadn’t thought much of it at the time. “If you were that worried about it you could have talked to me instead of treating me like a child. Again.”

“What? I don’t treat you like a child,” Mark said. He grabbed the now ready coffee and poured a cup for each of you, Chase eagerly taking his and practically sticking his whole face into the steam coming off of it. “I treat you exactly like your age, which is…”

He hesitated and guessed, “14?”

“What the heck, Mark? We went to college together, I’ve got to be at least as old as you are,” you said, angrily taking the cup with the alien giving a thumbs up painted on the side.

“No, the _District Attorney_ went to college with me,” Mark said. “Which as you keep reminding me, you don’t remember that, so that time doesn’t count.”

“How does that not count?”

“Do you even know when the District Attorney was born?” Mark asked.

“Do you?” you asked and Mark shrugged. He could barely remember anyone’s birthday and wasn’t afraid to admit it. “Besides, I remember all of the time in that house, plus all my memories from that other reality.”

“Oh, don’t pull the house card,” Mark groaned. “You were in the mirror for most of that. If anything, you should only be able to count from when I pulled that piece out of the mirror, because that’s when your ‘other reality’ memories start.”

“Did you just use air quotes?”

When Mark shrugged again you groaned and glanced at Chase, who paused in the act of pouring himself a second cup of coffee and looked back and forth between you and Mark like he very much wished he wasn’t here right now.

“Uh, sorry,” you said, suddenly very aware of how awkward this must be for him.

Chase shrugged. “Family’s tough, I know. It’s good you two are working this out in your own way.”

He took a long, slow sip of coffee before he asked, “But when you say he pulled a piece out of a mirror…?”

“The mirror I was trapped in, after…everything. When Mark took a piece, he got me out of the house but there were…side effects,” you said while Mark took a sudden interest in his own cup of coffee. “It’s complicated.”

“Side effects?” Chase thought a moment and said, “Oh, is that the thing Schneeps was working with the other doctor on, what was it, last year?”

Mark put his coffee cup down with a sharp ‘thunk’ on the counter. “What?”

Chase missed your less than subtle gestures and said, “Maybe? Jack wouldn’t tell us anything and Schneeps was being all hush hush about it like when he was observing JJ after he first showed up, so we thought there was a problem with a new ego or something. I mean, more than normal for your guys.”

You heard the sound come from Mark’s chest at that and for a moment he sounded just like Dark. “I think I need to have a chat with Dr. Iplier.”

“No, you don’t,” you said. You’d seen the doctor’s notes from back then, when he was trying to help a broken person who barely responded to their own name and who couldn’t even speak to tell them what was wrong. “He was just doing what he thought was best.”

“He was keeping secrets from me _about you._ I trusted him, even though I knew Dark and Wilford were in the same building and ready to do who knows what if they knew you were out of the mirror without any of your memories.” Mark rubbed at his eyes and said, “You don’t know what you were like back then, Y/N. It was months before you acted on your own without someone there telling you what to do, and even then, sometimes you would just look at us like you had no idea who any of us were. God, I had nightmares about Dark finding you like that, and then the Valentine’s Day thing…”

You stared at Mark with no idea how to respond to that. He had never talked about this before, that was the whole reason you had to go through Dr. Iplier or Google or one of the other egos to find out anything. When you saw what looked like tears in his eyes you closed the distance between the two of you and pulled him into a silent hug.

_You could feel Mark’s chest shake with the effort of not crying as his arms wrapped around you, but when you opened your eyes you were back in the house, back in your nightmare. There was the door again, dragging your eyes toward it like a weight even though you knew it was locked, that it would never open. You had watched the groundskeeper George lock it yourself after you helped shut it on Celine, her stare going right through you as painful light poured out from around her, and on Damien somewhere behind her. You spent so many years in the house that you even tried that door, as much as it scared you to imagine what you might find._

_It never opened then, no matter how many times you tried, but now you weren’t alone. This time you heard voices to your left and right, distant and fading as you reached out and the doorknob turned in your hand._

“Sorry,” Mark said, pulling away and taking the vision with him. “There’s just been a lot on my mind lately.”

“Yeah, same,” you said weakly, trying to make sense of what you had just seen. It didn’t feel like a memory, but how could it be a vision of the future? You couldn’t even remember the last time you had one of those, and besides, the house had burned down months ago. There _couldn’t_ be anything there now.

Right?


	3. Dude! Bro!

Chase reached his third cup of coffee right around the time Amy’s voice came from out in the hall, along with the sounds of dogs panting and claws clattering against the floor.

“We’re in here!” Mark called back to her and winced when a loud clatter came from the garage along with more arguing among the androids.

“I should probably go check on that,” Chase said, jumping up and walking toward the garage with the coffee cup still in hand.

Barely a second after he left the room, Chica and Henry came rushing into the kitchen like two golden hurricanes of wagging tails and snuffling noses that had to check you and Mark out along with the entire length of the floor as they ran back and forth before Chica plopped down at Mark’s feet and leaned against his legs for pets while Henry bumped his way around underneath the kitchen table.

“Oh, good, you’re already ready,” Amy said from the doorway when she saw you and Mark were awake and, at least in his case, showered and dressed. You were still wearing the same clothes that you had on yesterday and honestly feeling more than a little gross after sleeping in the van. Amy didn’t say anything about that, but she did notice the confusion on Mark’s face and nodded knowingly. “You forgot about the meeting with the production company, didn’t you?”

A look of panic crossed Mark’s face. “That’s today?”

“That’s in a couple of hours,” Amy said, sounding exasperated even as her smile suggested she was trying very hard not to laugh at him. “You wanted to run over some changes for the next project, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I wrote those down,” Mark said, looking around as if expecting to see the list right there on the counter. Another clatter came from the garage and he looked that way, then at you, and asked, “Are you sure this isn’t something we can’t just do over the phone?”

“Dan was going to show us some places we could use for the shoot,” Amy reminded him and he groaned. “You were so excited for this yesterday. What’s going on?”

She asked him, but the question was directed towards you as well, especially since Mark was running both hands down his face and swearing to himself.

“The Googles and Bing invited themselves in to work on the van,” you explained. You all could hear the raised voices coming from that direction now. “At least, I think that’s what they’re trying to do? Mark, just because they’re here doesn’t mean that you can’t go.”

“I am not about to leave them unsupervised in my house,” Mark said. “Mostly because I like this place and I want it to still be here when I get back.”

You started to say something but realized that Mark probably had a good point there. After all, you saw what they got up to over at their own place and figured the only reason that building was still standing was because it might not be entirely real. Instead, you said, “I mean, I can stay here and keep an eye on them. I don’t mind.”

Mark seemed even less thrilled by that idea. “By yourself? With the Googles and Bing?”

“Chase too,” you said, but you weren’t sure if that was a plus or a minus. Chase could be surprisingly responsible when he had to be, but put him in the same room as Bing and he turned into a super bro trying to show off at every opportunity. “There are worse combinations of your egos to have around.”

You heard a clatter and turned around to see Bing’s arm lying just inside the kitchen door, twitching a little. Bing paused in the act of picking up to see the three of you staring at him and said, “Nah, dude, it’s okay! Snaps back on, no problem.”

He demonstrated by popping the limb back on, where his arm stuck out a weird angle before twisting back and forth with a few clicks and beeps as it reconnected to his system.

“Although it might not hurt to take Chase and Bing to the park with the dogs and let Google do his own thing,” you said after a beat to process that little scene.

Mark stared at Bing a little longer before shaking his head with a clear pretending that didn’t just happen expression and saying, “I don’t know. I wanted to take you with us even if we’re not doing any filming today. I thought it’d be fun.”

Amy had been looking back and forth between the two of you while this was going on and finally asked, “Why don’t you just tell the guys to go home and come back some other day?”

“Well, uh…” Mark looked toward the garage, one eyebrow raising as he considered the idea.

You waited, but when he showed no sign of moving you started to suspect what was going on. “You’re afraid to tell them no.”

“What? No, I tell them no all the time,” Mark said. “I mean when I picked you up at the house yesterday Bim asked if I wanted to be on his game show and I tried to run him over with the car. That’s about as ‘no’ as you can get.”

“Okay, first off, that is _not_ what happened. You just forgot to check your mirrors when you were backing out,” you said and Amy gave Mark a look which he tried to avoid catching. “And I think you’d rather let Google do whatever he wants in there than risk him getting mad at you.”

Mark considered this for a moment, putting a hand to his chin while he thought.

“…Yep.”

Amy waited a second and then when nothing else followed said, “That’s it? Just ‘yep’?”

“Well, yeah, of course I don’t want that thing mad at me,” Mark said, gesturing in the direction of the garage. “One of his objectives is literally to destroy mankind, and we still don’t know why he just turned on Darkiplier out of nowhere or what goes on in those heads of his. Not to mention what he could do with my search history.”

“Yeah, we really need to talk about that,” Amy said. “Mark, you do know how incognito mode works, right? Because I borrowed your laptop the other day and…”

She trailed off, glanced at you, and said, “Yeah, maybe we should talk about that later. We really don’t have a lot of time here, so either you’re going to have to talk to them or we go with Y/N’s plan.”

Mark thought about it, muttering a little to himself as he did so, and then sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s obvious what we have to do.”

About thirty minutes later, enough time for you to get cleaned up and ready to go, you found yourself sitting on a bench at the dog park, wondering why you were even surprised this is how it turned out. At least Chica seemed to be having a good time, running around with the other dogs. Henry didn’t seem as eager to make any new friends and just sat in the shade with you, panting and watching as Chase ran after Bing with a camera.

“Y/N, check this out!” Bing said as he rode by on his skateboard, about two seconds before he was face down on the ground, his skateboard continuing on without him to go under another bench and off into the grass. “…Nailed it!”

Chase laughed and said, “Bro, what if we put the camera on Chica? Think of the shots we could get!”

“Dude!”

“Only if she lets you do it,” you said, not sure if Bing really heard you as he took the camera from Chase and went toward Chica. The dog saw him coming and bowed toward him, tail wagging, and waited until he was in arm’s reach before running off and forcing him to chase after her.

At least she seemed to be having fun, but you were so busy watching them that you didn’t notice Chase sat down next to you until he asked, “Everything okay?”

“Huh?” You glanced at him and then looked down at Henry, who was leaning against your leg and looking at Chase suspiciously, like he did with most strangers. You reached down and ruffled his ears but the dog didn’t relax. “Hey, it’s okay buddy. You’re alright.”

Chase seemed to consider his words before he said, “Before, you and Mark seemed to have a lot on your minds and I don’t think I really helped that. Are you two going to be okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I think so.” You shrugged. “We argue sometimes, and there’s a lot we’re still trying to figure out, but…It’s just complicated.”

“Family usually is,” Chase said, tugging on the brim of his cap to pull it lower over his eyes. “Mark really seems to care about you, right? It sounds like he was just trying to protect you.”

You nodded. “Sometimes he’s just a little too overprotective. I get why though.”

“It’s just what dads do,” Chase said, nodding as well.

“I’m sorry, _what?_”

Chase acted surprised, but you thought you saw a flicker of a smile around his lips. “I don’t really understand how this whole mirror thing works, but you said it yourself, your memories started at the moment Mark took the piece or whatever, and ever since then he’s been looking out for you, helping you grow up to be the person he wants you to be—”

_“No,”_ you said, as firmly as you could. “No, that is not how that works. That is not how any of this works.”

“But it kind of is?” Chase asked, grinning when you pushed him away, your ears buzzing as you did so.

“Mark is just—” you started, stopping mid sentence when you couldn’t figure out how to finish the thought. Now the words just hung there awkwardly as you realized you had no idea what you had just been trying to say, just that it was something about Mark.

To make it worse, here came the man himself, a golden dog jumping playfully around his feet. The moment you spotted him you froze, sure there was something you needed to say but nothing was clicking. A number of questions ran through your mind as you tried both to remember what you were talking about and figure out why Mark was wearing those ridiculous shades or that tank top. When did he start to dress like this? Sure, it was hot out here, but still—

Where were you, anyways?

That thought crossed your mind and any answer failed to come. You looked up at him and asked, “Mark?” as if hoping he could explain all of this.

And then Henry leaned harder than ever against your legs, whimpering a little, and almost absentmindedly you reached down and started petting him again before Chica, jealous, practically tackled you for attention.

“Uh, dude, I know Mark’s a handsome guy and all, but there’s no mistaking him for this excellence here,” Bing said, gesturing to himself. His fans were whirring hard in his chest, and if he had been human he probably would have been panting from chasing after Chica. Instead, he just sat down on the bench next to you with his arms spread to increase the ventilation.

“Yeah, sorry, just a slip of the tongue,” you said, trying to shake off that feeling from just a second ago. Of course it was Bing, you knew that. Maybe the heat was starting to get to you too, and with that in mind you said, “I’m going to go get some water, I’ll be right back.”

Bing and Chase nodded and you walked toward the fountain, Henry trailing after you while Chica was distracted by another dog. Bing was already talking about another idea he had for a video, but Chase watched you walk away with a smile. Then the flicker of green light in his eyes faded and he went back to talking to Bing like nothing happened.


	4. Bless the Rains

You took your time at the water fountain, making sure Henry had enough to drink from the spout for dogs before taking a long drink and then splashing the water on your face and the back of your neck. The droplets dripped down your back, the chill far too short in the summer heat but enough to make you feel a little better.

How could you have mistaken Bing for Mark? Sure, they had the exact same face and it wouldn’t have been the first time you mistook one of the egos when they were out of their usual attire (the King of the Squirrels had been politely confused at the time, but the Host sure got a laugh out of that one), but this was different. For that moment, it wasn’t just Bing’s name that you’d forgotten.

Henry leaned against your legs and you knelt down to scratch behind his ears.

“Hey, buddy,” you said softly. “Want some more water?”

Henry looked at you and then went straight for your backpack, sniffing at one corner.

“If you want treats you’re going to have to sit for them,” you said, already fishing one out. You’d promised Amy to keep up the training when you were with Henry.

The dog actually huffed at you, but he knew how this worked by now. You were just trying to bribe him into lying down and rolling over when you heard a familiar voice coming from somewhere up above, on the other side of the water fountain.

“The sun beat down like a hammer, nailing every poor slob fool enough to be out in the LA heat, and I was the biggest fool of them all. The hounds were out to play, and I was the fox in the middle of it all with no sign of a hen house. It was just me and my slim leads to guide me like marked trees to—”

“Abe?” You stood up in time to see the Detective jump, his hand reaching for the firearm at his side out of reflex before he recognized you.

“Y/N?! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with Henry and Chica,” you said, gesturing down at Henry who was currently trying to hide behind your legs. When the Detective narrowed his eyes, you added, “Mark and Amy’s dogs. We decided to take them out for a while.”

Abe was still staring at you like something just didn’t click.

“Abe, this dog park is just down the road, we come here all the time. What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’m on a case, of course,” Abe said. He pulled off his hat to brush some sweat off of his forehead and then after a moment of thought stuck his head under the water faucet and let it run for several seconds. He coughed and sputtered a little when he was done but smiled at you. “If you’ve got some free time, I could use a partner.”

“Well, I’m here with Chase and Bing but if I could help,” you said, finishing with a shrug. “What kind of case is it?”

Abe pressed his lips together and nodded a bit as if running through what he was about to say. “It’s…a long story. The important thing is, if you spot a poodle about yeah big, let me know.”

“A poodle? This isn’t another kidnapped dog thing, is it?”

“What? No, no, he just might have a couple of precious jewels in his collar, that’s all.” He caught your expression as you tried to figure out which question to even start with. “Like I said, _long story_. You say you know this park. Where would the fancy, purebred dogs hang out?”

“It’s a dog park, so wherever they feel like going?” You looked over your shoulder and saw that Bing and Chase were running around with Chica, and Henry seemed content enough to follow you around as long as you had those treats. “This place isn’t that big, we could probably just walk around it. Do you know what the owner looks like?”

“That would have been a great thing to find out when I was hiding the jewels in that collar,” Abe admitted. “Maybe if I’d had my partner with me…”

“Seriously, what the heck do you do when I’m not around?” you asked and found yourself laughing more than anything as the two of you walked around the park, Henry occasionally straying away to sniff at a suspicious tree or one of the more laid-back dogs before running to catch up.

It was in a quiet moment, as the trail you were following wound around in the shade of the trees, that Abe asked, “What about you? How are you doing?”

Almost immediately you thought of the nightmares that were making it almost impossible to get through an entire night, the vision of the door at the house opening when you hugged Mark earlier, and then there was that moment of confusion earlier, that memory blank that hit you out of nowhere.

“Uh…” You didn’t even know where to start, and Abe’s suspicious stare was back before you spoke. “Is that the poodle you were talking about?”

Abe’s head whipped around and then he was running, yelling back over his shoulder at you to cover him, from what you weren’t sure, but the chase went on for far too long as man and dog went around in a circle, the dog darting out of the way every time the Detective took a dive for him. Both were panting hard by the time you stepped in with one of Henry’s treats. While you gained a best friend for the half a second it took the poodle to wolf down the treat, Henry giving you the look of utmost betrayal, Abe pulled the dog’s collar off and swapped it with an identical one from his pocket.

“Whoo!” Abe laughed once and then flopped down onto the grass, his arms spread out and his chest heaving from the effort. Almost immediately he was surrounded by canines and his hand shot up out of the mass of fur. “Partner? Some help?”

“Nah,” you said but gave him a hand up. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“Nah,” Abe said with a wink. That didn’t stop him from praising you to Bing and Chase when you finally rejoined them back at the benches, where Bing was reattaching his arm for at least the second time today.

“Uh, guys?” As great as this was, you felt like you needed to say something when you spotted the stares some of the other people were giving you and Abe now. “I think now might be a good time to head back.”

Abe caught the stares and seconded that. Fortunately, Chica was just tired enough to come at the first call of her name so you were all on your way out of the park by the time anyone had talked themselves into coming over or reporting you. The four of you piled into the Detective’s car with the two dogs, making for a tight fit as Abe peeled out of the parking lot and straight into a traffic jam.

Chase looked over his shoulder from the front seat and asked, “Is this a normal thing for you guys?”

You looked at Bing and the Detective and then just shrugged. “It’s not the weirdest trip to the dog park I’ve had. Honestly, I’m surprised they don’t have Mark’s face on a poster around there after what happened last time.”

Abe’s eyes narrowed in the reflection from the rear view mirror as he looked back at you. “What do you people do when I’m not around?”

Abe drove you all back to Mark’s house on his way to take care of the rest of his case, but while Chase, Bing, and the dogs clambered out of the car he turned around and caught your arm before you could open your door.

“You never answered me before,” he said, but his voice came at a distance and was fading with every word. “How are you doing?”

_You saw the door again, back at Markiplier’s old house. You could hear the Detective’s voice, coming from behind you now. The door started to open again, but when you blinked the scene changed, your hand still outstretched but instead of toward the door handle you were about to touch a mirror. A mirror that showed your reflection and, standing just behind you, Darkiplier. His reflection moved and you felt the weight of a hand on your shoulder as he smiled at you._

“Y/N?” Abe was halfway out of the driver seat now, one hand on your shoulder as he shook you a little. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I—” You stopped yourself and swallowed. It took everything you had not to push his hand away after what you just saw. “I don’t know…Abe, you saw the house after it was burned down, right?”

He didn’t even have to ask which house you meant. He just nodded, watching you carefully.

“It’s definitely gone, there’s nothing there,” you said. It wasn’t even a question, just a hope that he would say yes and that would be it.

“Well, Tyler and that crazy Chef did a great job, if that’s what you’re asking,” the Detective said, trying to sound lighthearted but not really managing it. “There was barely anything left by the time the fire was through with the place.”

“Barely anything?”

“The place was made out of stone, at least on the outside,” Abe pointed out. “But most of the inside was torched, along with a lot of the roof. The main part of the mansion is almost completely gone.”

“The main part,” you repeated. “What about the upper floors, near the back?”

You were looking for it and you saw the hesitation cross the Detective’s face before his confidence slid back into place.

“That place is gone, Partner. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.” He squeezed your shoulder, gently. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

“I can’t get it out of my head,” you admitted, feeling the corners of your eyes prickle at the words and everything else you couldn’t even begin to explain. The nightmares by themselves hurt to think about just because you knew how real they were. All of those years trapped alone in that house, the one set of memories you would be more than happy to get rid of.

Abe’s phone began to play “Africa” somewhere in his pocket, but he didn’t break eye contact with you as he said, “I’m here if you need me, Partner. Anytime, any reason, you can call me. You know that, right?”

You nodded and he pulled you in for a hug which was thankfully not accompanied by any kind of visions or memories. Just Danny from NSP singing his heart out.

“We’re never going to let that happen to you again,” he said, his voice muffled next to your ear, the moment only slightly ruined when his phone hit the chorus and it was all you could do not to laugh. “Don’t you dare laugh, it’s a great song!”

A minute later you climbed out of the car while Abe reassured what you assumed to be his client that he was on his way. He’d made you promise to call him later, and dropped more than one hint about potential future cases.

It was enough to make you feel a little better. Something you desperately needed just before you walked into Mark’s house and found the fire alarm going off while smoke came pouring out of the garage. By the time you got there the fire was mostly out, the van mostly intact, and Google mostly polite as he reminded you that you did not have the permissions to be asking questions like, “What’s going on?” or “Who started this fire?” or “Why? Just, why?


	5. Just Dessert

A few hours later you heard the sound of the car pulling into the driveway before Chica and Henry jumped up and ran to the fence, tails wagging expectantly even before they heard Mark’s voice. By the time you reached the gate to the backyard Mark and Amy were out of the car and peering in through the open garage door.

“Chica!” Mark said when she tackled his legs and spent a good minute cooing over her and rubbing her ears like he hadn’t seen her in a week.

“How’d it go, Y/N?” Amy asked when spotted you, but you could see her face twist at the smell still coming from the garage. “Are the, uh, guys still here?”

“No, I…suggested it might be time for them to go home,” you said, and told them about the fire.

While you spoke, Mark walked into the garage and inspected the engine of the van. Well, tried, before he had to give up and back out coughing and eyes streaming. Once he recovered he asked, “What happened in there?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Google said it was a ‘miscalculation’ and kept saying they could fix it, but I told them to just go home for the day.”

“And they just left?” Mark asked.

“Chase had to call Marvin to come pick them up, but yeah,” you said. Well, Chase had called once he could breathe again. The fire had been short lived, but the smoke from it had billowed out of the garage and filled the house before either of you knew what was going on. Being right there by the van, he got the worst of it before Bing took him outside. “Sorry Mark, but the rest of the house isn’t much better. I’ve got all of the windows open to try and air it out, but that’s why we were in the backyard.”

“I’m glad you’re all okay,” Amy said and started suggesting a few ways to air out the house faster. With an active kiln in her apartment, she knew a couple of tricks that might help.

While she spoke Mark nodded along, but you could tell he wasn’t fully listening. When you went with him into the house with the goal of finding some fans while Amy waited outside with the dogs, Mark said, “So Google just left without finishing his objective?”

“Objective?” you asked, your voice muffled with the collar of your shirt pulled up over your mouth and nose.

“Fixing the van.” Mark opened the hall closet and started tossing stuff out of the way. “Usually when he starts a task he doesn’t stop until he finishes it or someone commands him to stop, which you can’t do.”

“He didn’t _want_ to go,” you admitted. The looks he gave you when you told him to leave had brought back those Terminator jokes from earlier, and not in a good way. And then all of a sudden, he just spat out a _“Fine,”_ and that was it, no argument, nothing. It was almost to reassure yourself that you added, “Besides, no one told him to fix the van in the first place. He’s probably deleting his memory of the whole thing now.”

You found another fan upstairs and soon the two of you had a sort of wind tunnel going to try and push the air through the house and toward the windows. It was enough to make walking around a little more tolerable, long enough for you and Mark to make some plans and grab a few things before locking the place up for the night.

The dogs seemed happy enough to stay at Amy’s apartment while the three of you decided that at least you could do one thing you’d planned together. By the time you reached the restaurant, Jack, Robin, and Ethan were already there waiting at a table and goofing around. It was a good thing the place was so relaxed or you all would have been tossed out for the amount of noise you made greeting each other. Jack had to shush himself when he realized how loud he was being, but he was just that excited to introduce you and Robin to each other.

While you complimented Robin on his editing and he mentioned how much Jack and Mark had told him about you (without actually telling you what they had said), Mark told the others about the van.

“Ah, man, I liked that creeper van,” Ethan said. “You think it can still be fixed?”

“Or, maybe, you could get something that doesn’t scream ‘drug dealer,’” Jack suggested. “Crazy idea, I know.”

“Just because it’s a white van that I may have operated some questionable businesses from,” Mark said and started laughing before he could finish the thought.

You managed to smile along as they joked about the van, but you noticed Mark never answered Ethan’s question. Sure, you knew the Barrel probably wasn’t worth the money or time to fix it at this point, if it had ever been worth it, but the idea of just getting rid of it hurt to even think about. You could barely remember most of the time you spent in the van, and most of what you could remember was secondhand from the videos Mark made with you, but for some reason when you were in the van you felt…safe. Like everything was going to be okay.

You snapped out of those thoughts eventually, in time to hear Jack ask, “So if the house is that bad, what are you guys going to do?”

“I can stay at Amy’s place, but with the dogs there too space is tight,” Mark said. He glanced at you apologetically, but you just shrugged like you had the first time he realized this while making plans for the night.

“That’s why I’ll be heading back to the egos’ house,” you said.

“Jack’s buddies are staying there too, right?” Robin asked. He looked at Mark and Jack and then asked you, “How are they getting along?”

Jack added, “Yeah, how are they? Schneeps and Jackieboy send me updates every now and then, but I know they can be a lot to handle. I was hoping it would help to get them out, especially since Chase has been so down lately, but if they’ve been causing any problems—”

“Nah, nothing like that,” you interrupted. Marvin and Dr. Schneeplestein had pulled you aside the first day they showed up and warned you about Chase, but as you told Jack, “Bing’s been hanging around Chase and I think that’s helped. The other guys have settled in too and seem to be having a good time. Dr. Schneeplestein is practically living in the infirmary with Dr. Iplier, and Jackieboy Man and Silver have been running around talking about team ups since they got here. Last I heard Bim and Wilford were both trying to get Marvin to do a segment on their shows, and…I’m not really sure, but I think the Jims may have adopted JJ into the family. They keep calling him ‘Dapper Jim’ and trying to teach him how to use a camera.”

“Pft, good luck with that,” Jack muttered. “Last time I tried that, I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the monochrome filter, and don’t even get me started on the sound settings.”

“That sounds like fun,” Robin said, “But a lot of egos in one place. How big is this house?”

You hesitated. Their house seemed to change every time you looked too hard at the place, but you said, “Big enough. Some of the guys have doubled up on rooms, but with something going on all the time I don’t think it’s been an issue.”

“All the time?” Robin repeated with a knowing look.

“Yeah, it can get a bit much sometimes,” you admitted. There was a reason you had asked Mark if you could stay over yesterday.

Jack said, “Then why don’t you stay with us for the night?”

“What?” you and Mark asked, almost in unison.

“The place I’m renting has extra room,” Jack said. “Ethan’s already spending the night because they’re doing construction at his place, but we still have the space.”

“Yeah!” Ethan chimed in. “We were talking about going mini golfing tomorrow morning, you could go with us.”

Robin was also on board with the idea as he said, “Oh man, a sleepover! And we can have s’mores and pillow fights and all the fun!”

“Don’t forget gossip about the boys,” Jack added. He leaned closer to Robin and said in a stage whisper, “Did you hear what Mark did during our pole dancing lesson the other day?”

“Gasp! No, what? Tell me, tell me!”

Amy joined in, her phone already out. “Girl, I can do you one better: I have pictures.”

Jack said, “Wait, what? You were taking pictures?”

“You posed for half of them!”

Your food arrived while you all were laughing over the pictures and the story, but while Mark laughed along with the others you noticed that he was oddly quiet and kept looking around the table like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to do it. You were just about to pass Amy’s phone over to Robin to share one last picture where Jack had managed to get himself stuck upside down on the pole when something over his shoulder caught your eye.

There was movement, back toward the door leading to the kitchens, and you caught sight of someone very familiar.

“Uh, Mark?” you started, ready to ask if he knew the Chef was working here. Was that why he was acting so strange?

Jack caught sight of the picture on the phone and tried to grab it before Robin could see, laughing as he did so. “When did you take this?!”

The second his hand brushed yours there was a spark and the phone’s screen immediately glitched and went out. Both you and Jack cried out and he let loose a few swears while you both shook the feeling back into your hands.

The reaction among the others was almost immediate. Robin’s hand was on Jack’s shoulder before the phone hit the table and he was pulling him around to check his eyes even as he asked in calm, soothing tones if Jack was alright. Ethan’s face paled and he grabbed the knives nearest to that side of the table and slid them out of sight while Amy’s hand went to your elbow, also asking if you were okay.

Mark was halfway out of his seat, both hands on the table as if ready to push himself in between the two of you, or as if unsure which of you he should be checking on. After a second of indecision he asked, in a low tone that barely left the table, “Seán?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said, not for the first time. “It happens sometimes, but I’m in control. Y/N?”

“Just stung a little,” you said, as if you couldn’t still feel that sharp sting in your hand or the prickles of pain that ran through your fingers like they had just been asleep. “So much for a high five, huh?”

Jack managed a forced smile, but the mood at the table was completely different after that. Ethan, Robin, and Amy tried to turn the conversation to what Jack and Robin had been up to the past couple of days, and while there was plenty to talk about there, Jack didn’t seem too into talking. When he eventually excused himself from the table, Mark followed him.

The restrooms were out of sight around the corner of a hallway in the back of the restaurant and none of you could hear anything, but the two of them were gone for so long that it was obvious that some kind of conversation had happened before they returned.

Well, tried to return. Mark made it about halfway across the floor before a loud voice boomed from the direction of the kitchens, “You!”

And going by the reaction on Mark’s face, he had _not_ known the Chef was working here. He practically ran the last couple of steps to the table and said, “Time to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Chef said from behind him. He put a hand on Mark’s shoulder and waved a ladle in his face threateningly as he lowered his voice and added, “Not until you’ve tried my souffle.”

Mark’s life paused in the act of flashing before his eyes and he asked, weakly, “What?”

A few minutes later, the Chef thumped down a plate in front of Mark, declaring to the table at large, “I’m trying a new recipe and need some feedback. Mr. Bigshot Actor here seemed like a good place to start.”

“Uh, well, I’m sure someone else could—” Mark stopped with a squeak when the ladle appeared near his nose.

“I made it _special_,” Chef said. “The second I saw you and your buddies walk in.”

“Now, when you say special…” Mark winced as the Chef slammed a fork down onto the table right next to his hand and swallowed, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead. “…Right.”

From your seat, it looked like a normal souffle, creamy golden and browned on top. But then the Chef was far from Mark’s biggest fan, and with the smile he was giving him now you couldn’t blame Mark for looking less than thrilled as he picked up the fork and hesitantly poked at the dessert before taking a piece. You saw him look at the rest of the dish as if checking to make sure there wasn’t a surprise inside before the Chef growled.

“Well? Aren’t you going to eat it?”

“…Sure,” Mark said slowly, looking at the rest of you to see if any help was coming. It was not.

He sighed and closed his eyes before taking a bite and then almost immediately they opened again as he nodded with appreciation.

“Not bad.”

“’Not bad’?” Chef repeated.

“Well, it is a little eggy—”

A minute later Mark helped himself up off the sidewalk as the rest of you trailed out of the restaurant, the Chef giving you in particular a scowl before he went back inside. He brushed himself off and said, “Thanks for the help back in there, guys.”

“He gave you a free dessert!” Ethan said. “What kind of help did you need?”

“Considering I thought he was trying to poison me or something, any kind!”

Amy sighed. “Well, this is another restaurant we can never come back to.”

“How many places does that guy work at?” Robin asked. “Or have you offended more than one scary man with a spoon?”

By the time you all separated into two groups to go your respective ways, it was easy to laugh about it and things almost felt normal again. But you couldn’t help but notice that no one brought up the idea of you staying with Jack and Robin again after the phone incident, and neither Amy nor Mark said anything about it on the ride to the egos’ house.


	6. Nightmare

It was dark by the time the car pulled into the driveway at the ego house. From out here it looked like every light in the house was on, and you could see shapes moving in some of the upper windows. Amy turned around in her seat while Mark put the car in park and said, “Sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together. We’ll have to make it up to you this weekend, right, Mark?”

“What?” Mark blinked blankly at Amy and even in the dark of the car you could see the look she shot him when realization dawned. “Oh, right, that—I mean, if we have time and all. Really busy, you know.”

“I’ll…try not to make any plans?” you said, wondering what they had planned but knowing Mark wouldn’t spill anything, at least not while Amy was there to keep him in check.

You were halfway out of the car when Mark added, “Call Amy or me if you need anything!”

“Will do.” You shut the door behind you, wincing a little when you remembered Chase’s dad comment earlier.

Mark and Amy waited until you reached the door and waved back at them before they started backing out of the driveway. You turned back to the door just as it shot open and a hand reached out to grab you by the shoulder and usher you into the light while a voice boomed in your ear.

“Y/N! It’s about time you showed up!”

“About time? I told you I’d be staying at Mark’s for a couple of days,” you said, like you didn’t have some version of this conversation practically every time Mark dropped you off here. “But good to see you too, Wilford.”

Wilford Warfstache grinned and spun you around to walk you down the hall, humming as he went.

You tried to keep pace with the man and asked, “How have things been going here?”

“Good! Great! Don’t go into the kitchen for a couple of hours.”

“What happened in the—”

“No time for that, we have so much to catch up on!”

“I just left yesterday,” you pointed out, but Wilford paid no mind to that as he led you into the living room and plopped you down on a couch, handing you a glass out of nowhere. You looked around and waved at Marvin, who was curled up on the other end of the couch with a book, and the Jims, who were reviewing some footage on a computer in the corner.

“And nothing happened at all?” Wilford asked, a knowing look in his brown eyes. Just before you could admit to anything, he carried on, “Well, I had a fantastic night. Drink up, drink up!”

You looked at the contents of your glass and barely had to sniff to recognize the smell. “Wilford, you do know this is pickle juice, right?”

“Well, I made a whole pitcher of margaritas last night, but _someone_ went and drank it all!”

Marvin looked up from his book and you could see his brow furrow behind his cat mask. “You mean you.”

Wilford smiled to himself and stroked his pink mustache. “Yeah, it was a good night.”

“Debatable,” Marvin muttered.

“Aw, don’t be a grumpy pussy,” Wilford said, throwing his arms out over the back of the couch so that they were behind both you and Marvin. “Y/N, I talked this guy into being on my show! Mr. Marvin the Magnificent!”

“You’re…not going to give him an interview, are you?” you asked.

“Well, yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

You pulled Wilford closer and whispered so that Marvin wouldn’t hear, “Wil, if you do this, no guns, and _absolutely no knives_. You understand, right?”

“I hear the words coming out of your mouth, and they are definitely words. Hey, Marvin, show Y/N that card trick!”

Marvin tilted his head. “You and Bim keep asking me to do that. You both know I can do real magic, right?”

“But the cards! How do you know?”

As much as Marvin complained, he grinned to himself every time Wilford oohed and aahed over his simple card tricks or the bit with the rings. While this was going on, other egos walked in and out of the room, with some like Yandereplier and the King of the Squirrels stopping to watch Marvin and chat for a bit, giving him an audience even after Wilford’s attention strayed. Wilford wandered from one side of the room to the other, absentmindedly sipping at the glass he had swiped from you at some point, but you did not trust the look in his eyes at all. The last time he had that look, you both wound up with a lifetime ban from the local zoo.

Wilford hadn’t started anything yet and you were laughing as Jameson mimed a face behind the fuming magician, who had just guessed the wrong suit, when you heard the distinctive tone of Google’s voice out in the hall. It was not a happy sound.

“Uh, you know, I think I’m going to head to my room,” you said as you quickly stood up.

“What? Already?” Wilford asked. He lowered his voice and added, “If you’re thinking this party could use some livening up, I’ve got just the idea.”

“It’s been a long day for me Wilford, and I haven’t even dropped my bag off,” you said, speeding up as you heard the androids’ voices getting closer. “I should really get some sleep, night!”

You made it out of the other door just before Google entered the room, and you didn’t think he saw you. True, trying to avoid any of the egos for very long never seemed to work, but you really didn’t have the energy to deal with Google or think about the van right now.

Upstairs, you passed Bim Trimmer and Ed Edgar having some kind of argument involving a hair comb and skirted around the improvised target set up in the middle of the hall that Chase and Bing were shooting darts at, finally making it into your room and shutting the door with a sigh of relief. You really were tired now that you had said it out loud, and it was a relief just to let your backpack drop to the ground.

There was something different about your room though, and it only took a second for you to latch on to the mirror hanging on the wall opposite your bed, which had definitely not been there yesterday. As far as you knew, the egos didn’t make it a habit of going into your room (well, aside from Wilford, who still hadn’t caught on to how locked doors worked), but you had noticed during your time here that things tended to change if you weren’t paying attention. The walls might be a slightly different shade of paint in the morning than they were the night before, or the door to your room was just a little further away than you remembered. Sometimes you’d walk to a room like you always had and only later realize that it was on the wrong floor.

Kind of like Markiplier Manor.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, you walked over to the mirror and pulled it off the wall. You weighed it in your hands before setting it down on the ground, its face against the wall. It didn’t look like the mirror from the house, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t find somewhere else for it to go in the morning.

Until then, you turned off the light and threw yourself onto the bed for some much needed sleep.

_You stood and turned around slowly, taking in the ruined remains of the room around you. It was Markiplier Manor, there was no doubt about that, but fire had ravaged the place, leaving broken timbers and blackened walls to separate the once grand rooms. Ashes swirled around your feet as you walked toward the front door, which barely stood with half of its hinges ripped out of the wood._

_The second you touched the door pain shot through your hand and you heard a distant, high-pitched laugh._

_You backed away from the door and heard the crunch of glass beneath your feet. Looking down, you saw shattered pieces of the mirror on the floor, the frame facing up with a single hole right in the middle of it. Just the sight of it made your head swirl and you staggered as if about to collapse._

_There was a back door, in the kitchen. You knew every way out of this place, one of them _had_ to work._

_Except when you reached the door frame that once marked the entrance to the kitchen, you saw the back door was gone, burned out with more than some of the wall around it. And standing in the middle of the gaping hole was the silhouette of a man._

_You didn’t even remember turning and running, just the laughter and dread that followed you as you took to the burnt stairs which creaked and groaned beneath your weight, one actually snapping and almost taking you down with it, and there was no railing left to hold onto so you had to scramble and crawl up the last few steps. Anything to put as much distance between you and that thing as possible, but you could feel its presence at your back, hear the static in your ears as he grew closer._

_Down the hall, ignoring the missing chunks to either side where there was a steep drop and a one-way trip back to the ground floor, heart pounding as you ran straight to the one door left standing, the one you knew should have been locked._

_You heard the laughter again when you slammed into the door, saw the twitching figure at the end of the hall out of the corner of your eyes, but the handle turned, he was too far away—_

_Except he was suddenly there, one arm turning you around and pushing you up against the door, the other coming up with something in his hand, but it wasn’t a knife. The sharp edge of the mirror shard caught the light and the glitches coming off of him as you raised your hand to block the blow._

_Pain pierced your hand and Anti grinned, his green eyes turning solid black as he leaned closer._

_“S̸̛̛̙̠̥̮̟͊̉̂́͆̚͝ò̵̡̲̰̝ǫ̴͙̪̜̲̗͓̺̇̔̍͂̆̔͆n̴̺͎̮̽.”_

You woke with a start and immediately curled in around your aching hand. In the dark you could just tell that there was nothing there, but where Jack and you had brushed hands earlier you now felt the pain of that shock again, worse now than when it first happened.

You forced yourself to get up and turn on the light, and then stood there in your room for you weren’t sure how long, trembling and rubbing your hand just to get it through to your head that you were fine.

Except you weren’t.

This was worse than your usual nightmares, and even the thought of curling up in the closet for the rest of the night set you on edge. You needed to get out of this room, to talk to someone.

With that in mind, you walked out into the now empty hall and before long stood outside of another door.

At the same moment that you knocked, the Host’s voice called from within, “Come in, Y/N.”

The Host was seated at a desk in his study, where books and papers covered every surface, filled the shelves to either side, and still spilled out onto the floor in stacks that made navigating the room a test in dexterity.

“Y/N enters the Host’s study and looks around, taking in the clutter. The Host apologizes for the mess, but is more concerned with why they are here at this hour.”

You hadn’t even thought about what time it was, but it didn’t surprise you that the Host was still awake. From here you could see that the bandages around his eyes were only slightly red, but judging from the state of his hair and his clothes you wondered how long it had been since he had taken care of himself at all.

“The Host has a lot on his mind at the moment,” he said, as if in response to your thoughts. “As does Y/N. What is wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” you said, trying not to feel silly even as the words came out of your mouth. It was almost to admit it to yourself that you added, “I’ve been having a lot of them lately, but this one was really bad. And…I had two visions today.”

“The Host stands up to clear off one of the chairs for Y/N, the comfortable one.”

“Thank you,” you said as you sat down, watching as the Host went back to his seat without coming close to knocking one of his stacks of books over. He listened patiently as you explained what you saw with both Mark and Abe, his mouth becoming a tight line at the mention of seeing Darkiplier in the mirror.

“What do you think it means?” you asked once you were done.

“Y/N asks the Host, but the Host believes they have already come to their own conclusion.”

You took your time answering, touching the spot on your hand again even though the pain was now just a memory. You thought about the visions, about the constant nightmares that all led up to the same door.

“…I think I have to go back to the house.”


	7. Is It Worth It?

“Incorrect.”

You took a second to react to that. “Sorry, what?”

“Y/N believes they have to go back to Markiplier Manor. That is incorrect.”

“But I told you, I keep seeing that room, I can’t get it out of my head!” You stared at the Host, who just shrugged at your words. “You told me yourself that these visions or whatever they are could be of the future, and it’s not like they’re memories. I know they haven’t happened yet!”

“_A_ future.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The Host recalls telling Y/N that what they see may not happen at all. The future is a difficult thing to read, and even observing it may be enough to change what one sees.” The Host sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on his desk as he turned his bandaged eyes on you. “What reason does Y/N have to go to the house?”

“I told you, I keep seeing it—”

“The Host stands and asks Y/N to join him in the middle of the study.”

“…O-okay,” you said, following the Host to the middle of the room. You almost knocked over a stack of books along the way, but the ego wound his way through the haphazard stacks without any trouble.

“Now the Host asks that Y/N close their eyes.”

“I’ll say it again, what?”

“Whether Y/N believes it or not, not being able to see for one minute is not the end of the world.”

“I didn’t mean—Fine. Now what?”

The Host’s hands rested on your shoulders as he turned you around, and then around again, until you lost all sense of direction and then he let go. You stood there with eyes still closed, knowing that the Host would call you out on peeking.

“Y/N hears the sound of the Hosts’ voice. Can Y/N walk toward it, without opening their eyes?”

“Sure I can, I just…” You paused after one step when you felt the pressure against one side of your leg and heard the sound of a book tumbling to the floor. Right, the stacks of books, all over the room. “Oh.”

“Exactly. Walking forward blindly would result in Y/N tripping and most likely twisting an ankle.”

“Host.”

“That is, if the Host were to let them,” the Host added quickly at the tone in your voice. “The Host’s question is if risking that outcome would be worth it just because someone told Y/N to go there.”

“So I should just ignore these visions?” You crossed your arms, recalling the latest in the series of nightmares. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Is that the reason Y/N wishes to go? To make them stop? Because the Host cannot guarantee that will be the outcome. Going back may even make them worse. Again, is it worth it?”

“I don’t…” Your fingers dug into your arms as you recalled the nightmares, and the memories they came from. It took an effort to speak, but he was patient. “Host, I was in that house for so long, and that door was always there. And every time I saw it, I thought, what if…What if we were wrong, what if we could have saved them, what if they were trapped in there like I was trapped in the mirror, and…I _know_ they’re not coming back, I know what happened. They’re gone, this won’t change anything, but…I have to see that room for myself. I need to. Do you understand?”

“When the Host sees the future, it is not just one. There are so many paths to choose even if someone knows where they wish to go, and at times the Host feels that there is more to lose than just knocking over a stack of books or a visit to Dr. Iplier.” The Host sighed. “But if that outcome is important or dear enough, then it is worth the risks along the way. Of course, like crossing this room, having someone to help you could make all the difference. Y/N will not be going alone.”

“No, of course not!” There was absolutely no way you would go back to that place alone.

“That was less a question and more an observation. Y/N may open their eyes now. The Host has finished making his point.”

You opened your eyes and watched as the Host threaded his way back over to you, taking the time to think. You already knew one person you could ask, but it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else come along. “Host, would you go with me?”

The Host paused, his head dipping toward the ground as he considered. Then he said, almost sadly, “The Host cannot.”

“That’s okay, I just thought—” You were about to say you thought he could use some fresh air and time outside, but going back to Markiplier Manor hardly seemed like a fun kind of outing.

“The Host hopes…” The Host stopped, considering his words. “The Host hopes that Y/N gets some rest soon. He has found that Chef Iplier has tea in the kitchen cabinets that helps him to relax when bad dreams keep him awake which Y/N may find useful.”

“I’ll give that a try,” you said. At the door you turned around and added, “Thank you, Host. For listening, and the advice.”

In the kitchen you found a half-cleared disaster area that started with something in one of the sinks that burbled and gulped when you looked at it and spread to a disturbing yellow liquid splashed across one of the counters that oozed slowly toward the ground in thick strands. A mop stood straight up in the middle of the pool gathering below it, as if the substance was not only strong enough to keep it from falling over but could rip the mop out of the hands of whoever had been desperate enough to try to clean it up. The whole area had been roped off with probably more hazard signs than were necessary, or at least you hoped so.

Fortunately, there was more than one sink in this massively oversized kitchen, and you could at least get some water boiling for the tea the Host told you about. You took a moment to pull out your phone and, with a guilty look at the clock, send a text message. You hoped it wouldn’t wake him up, but part of you suspected that he wouldn’t be asleep even at this hour. As you were picking out a cup, the back door opened and two superheroes came stumbling into the room.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” Silver Shepherd said, waving as he led Jackieboy Man to one of the clear counters and propped him up there.

“Hey—Are you okay?” you asked, looking especially at Jackieboy.

He shrugged, one hand over his left eye, the other bracing himself against the counter. You could already see a bruise forming under his fingers and there was a rip in one of his sleeves. “You should see the other guys. Right, Silver?”

Silver laughed, but you couldn’t help noticing that his lower lip had a split in it. He handed a small towel wrapped around some ice to Jackieboy and said, “Here, try this.”

Jackieboy pressed the wrap against his eye, wincing a little as he did so. “Didn’t expect to see anyone up so late. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a bad dream,” you said. “Do you two need to go see the doctors?”

Both men immediately shook their heads, speaking over each other as they reassured you they were okay.

“Barely even a fight,” Silver added last. “These guys didn’t know what hit ‘em when both of us showed up.”

He puffed himself up, and before long he and Jackieboy were going over the fight piece by piece, laughing a lot for two guys who were almost tossed off a rooftop. You listened while you sipped your tea and breathed in the heavy steam. It seemed to be helping calm you down at least, so there was that.

You glanced down at your phone when you felt the vibration and saw the words, _Only because you asked, Partner._

You smiled just before the phone vibrated again with a second message: _Go to bed!_

Well, there was only one way to respond to that.

_You first._

Jackieboy made no secret of sidling over to peek at your phone and grinned at you when you turned it away from him. That’s how you missed the brief surge of static across the screen as the words jumped and scattered before settling back into place once they were read.

“Ooh, texts late at night, I know what that means,” Jackieboy said.

Silver pressed both hands to his mouth with an exaggerated gasp. “Y/N, do you have a secret someone?”

“Uh, no, it’s not like that.”

“You know we’ll have to meet this boyfriend and/or girlfriend of yours,” Silver continued, wagging a finger at you with one of his oversized gloves. “I don’t think I can approve of someone texting you at this hour of the night, keeping you up on a school night.”

“A school…? I texted him, about a thing tomorrow.”

“A thing?” Jackieboy said, nudging Silver as he did so. “Sounds pretty serious to me.”

“It’s not—I mean, it is, but it’s not…” You paused when you saw both men cracking up. “I hate you both so much right now.”

Silver waited until you finished your tea and went back upstairs to say to Jackieboy in a far more serious tone, “That was a pretty bad hit earlier. How’s your eye doing?”

Jackieboy removed the wrap and blinked a couple of times. For one second it seemed like his eye was completely bloodshot, but when Silver moved closer to take a better look there was only the bruising.

He gingerly touched the area around his eye and then shrugged. “I’ve felt worse.”

After you left the study, the Host went back to his desk and sat there, waiting in silence for the knock that he knew would soon come.

“Come in, Google.”

The blue Google unit entered the room, careful to shut the door behind him as he did not wish to be overheard. He walked across the room, taking a calculated path to reduce encounters with the stacks, until he stood at the other side of the desk and looked down at the Host. The Host could hear the android’s system whirring loudly, a sign that he was…not upset, that would be a human emotion. Just having difficulty processing.

“I have been analyzing my data records since I returned to the house,” Google said, not bothering with an introduction or any niceties. “I can not find any cause for the van fire earlier today, and seeing that my memory banks are…insufficient, asking for your assistance seemed to be a logical choice.”

The android said the word “insufficient” like it hurt, and the Host knew that the last several hours had been a debate between the four units on whether or not to seek outside help.

“The fire that damaged the Barrel was caused by a glitch, a spark that ignited the grease,” the Host said.

“I did not glitch,” Google said, his hand coming to rest on the desk as he leaned over the Host.

“The Host did not say you were the source of the glitch.”

_“Bing,”_ Google muttered.

The Host opened his mouth to correct him and then stopped himself. Instead, he asked, “Does Google still intend to repair the van?”

“It is doubtful if the ‘Barrel’ is worth this unit’s time and energy,” Google said. “Holding on to that van is sentimentality on the part of Markiplier and Y/N, a human defect that prevents them from simply making the most efficient choice of getting a new vehicle.”

“Some things can’t be fixed…” The Host said to himself, quietly, and shuddered.

“…I did not say that,” Google said. He scowled when the Host turned his head toward him and added, “Just that it has no rational value.”

“If the van has no value, then why did Google offer to repair it in the first place?” the Host asked.

Google narrowed his eyes. He knew that the Host only asked questions when he wanted someone else to say it for themselves. “Because this unit finds it more convenient to achieve my directives when Markiplier and Y/N trust me. Today’s error will only make that more difficult, unless the Host knows another way.”

“The Host does know that Markiplier’s house is currently empty, and will continue to be so for several days. That is, if Google truly believes the van can be repaired.”

The Host listened, sensing the android’s processing as he took in this information. It lasted longer than he liked, and the response was not the cocky answer he had hoped for.

“Perhaps I can spare my other units to look into it. This information is…appreciated, Host.”

The Host nodded and waited until the door shut behind Google before he leaned forward on his desk and buried his head in his shaking hands.

One outcome, only one where this was all worth it, and he could feel the pits lurking on either side of the path to get there.


	8. Return to Markiplier Manor (Again)

The next morning, you enjoyed a quiet moment in the living room while you waited for Abe to arrive. Well, “enjoying” might not be the right word, considering you alternated between checking your phone every couple of seconds to pacing the room, wondering why the clock seemed to be moving so slow.

It was as you were doing another circuit around the room that one of the doors opened and Jameson Jackson came running into the room and vaulted over the couch. Behind it he crouched down and, spotting you, put a finger to his lips.

“What’s going—” you started when Wilford Warfstache came barging in through the same door as Jameson and stopped in the middle of the room to look around with bright pink eyes. “…Wilford? Are you okay?”

“Never better! Say, you haven’t seen that scallywag Jamieboy around, have you?” he asked, his inflection a weird mix between Wilford’s and the Colonel’s.

You tried very hard not to glance at Jameson as you asked, “Is there a reason you’re looking for him?”

“Oh, we just need to settle something. Some good old fisticuffs, or maybe a little stabbing to get the point across.”

“Wilford!”

“Well, he started it!”

Jameson held his hands up, his mouth agape as he gestured to you as if to say he had no idea what Wilford was talking about. You felt Wilford’s pink eyes studying you as you tried to figure out how to handle this when the phone in your hand buzzed. A glance told you Abe was waiting outside and, knowing him, growing more impatient by the second.

“Have you checked upstairs?” you asked.

“Can’t say that I have! You know, you look like you’d be a natural at hide and seek. Want to come with me?”

“Uh, you know, I kind of already have plans, sorry.”

“Plans?” Wilford’s eyes seemed a little more brown as he asked, “Oh, are you going somewhere?”

“Just a quick trip with the Detective, I’ll be back before you know it,” you said, trying to use your tone of voice to make it sound as boring and uninteresting as possible. Wilford probably had as much a right as anyone to go back to the house, but somehow you didn’t think it would do him any good.

Honestly, you doubted it would do _you_ any good to go back either, but you’d already made your mind up about that.

“Abe?! Oh, you should ask him about the night we had at the disco, now that’s a story!” Wilford grinned before his eyes flashed pink again and he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of things here while you’re gone.”

With that, Wilford walked out of the room and Jameson breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he sagged against the back of the couch.

_“Thank you.”_

You blinked as the speech slide appeared before your eyes only to disappear as soon as you read it. “What did you do?”

Jameson considered for a moment and then shrugged helplessly.

“Well, until we can figure that out, maybe you should avoid him,” you said, realizing even as you said it that trying to avoid anyone in this place rarely worked for long.

Even Jameson looked doubtful at the suggestion and you sighed, realizing there was one way to keep him and Wilford apart for a while.

“You’re bringing him with us?” Abe asked a few minutes later, one eyebrow arched as he tilted his head in Jameson’s direction. Jameson, in the middle of a stretch as he took in the sunlight and fresh air, looked around at the sense he was being watched and waved. “You sure that’s such a good idea?”

“Well, I can’t leave him here with Wilford, at least not until I can figure out what’s going on there,” you said. Honestly, with Wilford there was every chance he would forget whatever he was mad about by the time you got back, but there was also a good chance he might “tickle” Jameson with his knife, so… “Besides, it might be good to have someone with us who isn’t as…connected to the house. He might notice something we’d miss, right?”

“Please, I don’t miss anything,” Abe said.

“Really? Because the last time I went to the coffee shop with you, the barista slipped you his number on a napkin and you used it to blow your nose.”

“He also tried to give me decaf. We both knew it wasn’t going to work out.” Abe stopped at the door to his car and looked at Jameson over the roof. “You realize this isn’t a fun little picnic out in the country, right? Y/N and I have business to take care of, and you can either help us or stay out of the way. Got that?”

_“I’m here to serve!”_

Abe blinked as the words flashed across his eyes and then scowled at Jameson. “Do _not_ do that while I’m driving.”

Jameson opened his mouth, thought better of it, and nodded so vigorously that his hat slipped a little.

It was a long drive to Markiplier Manor, hours at least. You knew that the house was out in the middle of nowhere, but somewhere along the way you realized that this was the first time you were intentionally going to the house since that first drive to the party all those years ago.

Did you drive there? You couldn’t actually remember how you got the party, just the walk up the drive and meeting the Colonel at the door. And you couldn’t remember either of the times you left the place since then, now that you thought about it.

So, like Jameson, you spent a lot of the ride looking out the windows, except while he excitedly pointed out landmarks or dogs riding in the passing cars, you were looking for anything that felt even a little familiar.

But there was nothing, not even a sense of nostalgia as Abe turned the car down the final stretch of road, not until you saw the broken gates outside of which the car pulled to a stop. You weren’t the only one to take a deep breath before getting out of the car.

In the daylight you could clearly see Markiplier Manor. It looked smaller than you remembered, with so much of it missing or burned away. Empty windows stared back at you, and there was a sense of complete stillness around the whole place, like nothing, not even insects or pests, lived here. Your eyes drifted over the dark scars left by the fire and past the aching hole in the roof to the tower, still intact.

Your footsteps seemed incredibly loud as the three of you walked up the overgrown drive to the front door, which gasped under your touch and swung on its remaining hinges to lean at an awkward angle.

You stepped inside the house and back into your nightmare.

From the broken timbers to the scorch marks on what remained of the walls, it looked exactly the same.

Abe walked past you to stand in the middle of the room next to the remains of the chandelier that once hung over the main hall. There he looked around and then down at the ground where he kicked at something, sending a pile of ash flying into the air.

Even Jameson seemed unusually subdued as he walked around, and you saw that he also paused to stare at something on the ground. As you got closer, you realized that he was looking at the broken frame of the mirror, lying face down on the ground.

He knelt, and for one terrible moment you thought he was about to touch it, but he just pointed at the single hole straight through the middle of it and looked up at you questioningly.

“It’s…a long story,” you said.

Jameson paused, studying your expression, and then just nodded before standing up and continuing to walk slowly around the room, taking in the devastation.

Abe put a hand on your shoulder, giving you a look before he went to the stairs and sighed at them, clearly wondering if it would even be possible to get up them to the tower.

You breathed out slowly, glad that neither was trying to get you to talk about it, and looked down at the mirror again. There were a few pieces of glass around the mirror, most of them small, but one shard in particular caught your eye.

It was longer than the others, sharp, and for a second you saw it again in Anti’s hand, coming toward you like a knife.

You glanced at Jameson, but he was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning to look in without risking climbing over the debris in the way. Abe was also distracted, so neither saw as you bent down and picked up the mirror shard. It was almost surprising how much it felt like normal glass in the palm of your hand, holding it in such a way that they wouldn’t notice.

It was just a nightmare, you told yourself, but you still felt better knowing where this was while you were here.

One at a time, the three of you made your way up the stairs, all wincing every time one of the boards creaked and groaned in protest under your weight. One in particular that you stepped over almost broken in half when Jameson went up, but fortunately he was so close to the top you and Abe were able to catch his arms and pull him the rest of the way.

From there it was a straight walk to the door, but Jameson looked at both you and Abe, concerned. You realized that Abe was visibly sweating as his eyes strayed toward the wall near the head of the stairs, and as you reached out to touch him your own hand trembled at the sense of the emptiness behind you, without even the railing between you and the ground below.

Abe blinked when your hand found his and he gasped as though he had been holding his breath. You thought you saw tears in the corners of his eyes as he squeezed your hand and, saying nothing, nodded toward Jameson to lead the way to the door.

There were openings to either side of the hall, where you caught overhead glimpses of the kitchen and the room where you saw Mark’s body plummet to the ground. Both were hardly recognizable thanks to the fire. You only wished the rest of the house looked the same, as Jameson reached the nearly untouched door.

He paused, his head tilting, and you heard the rattle of the doorknob as he tried and failed to get it to turn. After a minute of struggle, he turned back to you and Abe and shrugged.

_“I don’t suppose you have the key?”_

You shared a look with the Detective and said, “I think George left with it. I know I never saw it the whole time I was here.”

“Well, there’s got to be a way to get that thing open,” Abe said, releasing your hand as he stepped forward to take a look at the lock. “I might have some lock picks out in the car. Purely for recreational purposes, of course. Or did I leave those at the office?”

Jameson stroked his thick black mustache while he thought and then his eyes lit up as he stuck his finger in the air. He mimed using something to pry open the door and, with a finger to tell you both to wait a minute, went back down the stairs.

“Hey, be careful!” Abe called after him. “This whole place isn’t exactly steady!”

As he watched Jameson go down the stairs, you continued to stare at the door. You heard Abe laugh and tell Jameson he told him so as you moved closer to the door. Without thinking, you reached out with the hand not holding the mirror shard and turned the doorknob. After seeing it happen so many times in your visions, it wasn’t even surprising when it opened easily with a small, barely heard click.

“Abe?” you called over your shoulder as you looked into the room, but your voice sounded just as small.

There was no one in the room. You knew there wouldn’t be, there couldn’t be, but it felt like a crushing blow and an incredible relief at the same time when you realized there also weren’t any bodies here.

You stepped into the room and straight through memories. Everything was just as you last saw it, from the drawn drapes to the tarot cards laid out on one side of the table behind a large crystal ball whose murky surface swum when you looked at it. Candles, burned down to tiny wicks in the middle of spreading pools of wax, and beneath it all a cloth with strange, arcane symbols all over it. Even the smell, that musty hint of spice, was the same.

You glanced at the black bag sitting on the floor beside the chair and for a moment you could almost see Celine tossing it to the side, the Seer leaning forward as she spoke eagerly. You could see her confidence turn to confusion and then anger when you failed her, the disbelief on Damien’s face as he took it all in. You watched them argue in the hall. You saw them both turn and walk away, disappearing back into this room for the last time.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“Y/N? Partner, look at me.”

Abe was staring at you with concern and you realized that tears were pouring down your cheeks without you even realizing.

“This was a bad idea. We need to get out of here.”

You shook your head, struggling for a minute before you could say, “No, it’s not…I’m glad I saw this, really, I just need a minute—”

You broke off with a choked gasp as pain shot through you like a bullet to the chest, and lanced through your neck. The room swam and turned as you stumbled and fell, taking the table down with you as the pain continued, splintering and crackling through your whole body until it suddenly stopped, leaving you lying there amid the dried up candle wax and scattered cards with no idea how you got there.


	9. Missing Sun

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself on your knees in the middle of the debris, shaking with the effort of staying upright. Your whole body trembled from the memory of the pain even though you felt nothing now; in fact, it took a moment to recognize the pressure to one side of your neck as the touch of a hand, gentle and firm as it supported your head. It took an effort to focus on the person kneeling before you, and as the face swam into view you recognized it as your own.

The District Attorney met your eyes and you saw their mouth move, forming words that didn’t match what you heard.

“Stay with me, Partner. You’re going to be okay.”

The District Attorney moved to your side but the hand supporting you remained and you realized that there was a man in their place, dressed in gray slacks and a white shirt with suspenders, a gun visible in the holster at his side. You saw concern in his eyes, and he spoke…He spoke like he knew you.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to focus, but it was so hard when thoughts scattered as soon as they formed and everything felt so distant, so surreal like you were in a dream. Your mouth opened but even if you knew what to say no sound would come.

Beside you, the District Attorney took your hand and began to gently pry open the fingers there. You watched while the man looked over your shoulder to shout for someone else while they removed a large piece of a mirror from your hand_._ Its sharp edge had left a deep cut in your palm and along your fingers when your grip had tightened around it at the start of the pain, not that you could feel it now. There was something vaguely familiar and yet off about the sight that you couldn’t place. The District Attorney made eye contact with you and put a finger to their lips before hiding the shard somewhere out of sight.

You blinked and they were gone. Maybe they had never been there, you thought numbly as the man turned his attention back to you. This all felt like a dream, except you wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

“Where does it hurt? Can you stand up?”

You opened your mouth again, but still nothing. You shook your head as much as you could, to explain that it didn’t hurt, but he looked up at someone behind you and spoke to them.

“About time you showed up. I think we’re going to have to carry them to the car, and then…” He swore, his eyes shutting tight for a moment as he remembered. “It’s going to take hours to get back!”

Partner. He’d called you partner.

You heard the floor boards creak behind you as someone else came in, and then there was another man kneeling next to you. This one was dressed in a shirt and vest, one hand reaching to tilt the bowler hat on his head back as he took a look at you with bright blue eyes. He rubbed his black mustache as he thought before turning to the other man and began to sign, his hands moving quickly.

“Wha…? Yeah, well, same to you, buddy, but now’s not the time for that!”

You looked at him closer, remembering a long jacket and a deerstalker cap. A detective?

You were distracted when the second man, after a baffled shake of his head at the detective, reached toward you and patted around until he found the cellphone in your pocket.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the detective asked, just as it clicked. He was _the_ Detective, of course. Who else could he be?

While Jameson tapped away at your phone, mouth twisted as texting took all of his concentration, you struggled and managed to get out a single word.

“Abe.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” he said when you tried to move.

“I’m…” You couldn’t say “fine,” and not just because each word required a monumental effort. How could you forget who Abe was? “Doesn’t…hurt anymore.”

“Well, once someone’s done texting, maybe he can _help_ us.”

Jameson raised one finger in response and tilted his head as if waiting expectantly for something to happen. After about thirty seconds he seemed a little less sure, and just as he was starting to check the phone again to make sure this thing was working, there was a puff of green smoke in the room, which, once it cleared, revealed Marvin the magician, coughing and waving the air away.

Jameson stood and gestured toward Marvin grandly, his mouth open.

_“Ta-da!”_

Marvin looked around, taking in the room and you and Abe on the ground as recognition dawned. “_Oh_, that’s what you meant. JJ, we really need to talk about how autocorrect works.”

“Great, there’s another one,” Abe muttered.

Once the situation had more or less been explained to Marvin, he nodded and said he could take the three of you back, no problem. Abe claimed he needed to stay so he could drive his car back, but you suspected that wasn’t the only reason he passed on the magic.

He looked at both men skeptically before he said to you, “I’ll meet you back at the house, Partner.”

Jameson helped you to your feet and you saw Abe back out of the room, watching as Marvin rubbed his hands together and made a symbol before the three of you disappeared in a swirl of green magic.

Abe sighed and ran a hand over his face before turning to go. He did not see the magic that lingered, playing over the Seer’s bag and her occult items like static before those things disappeared as well. He made his way down the stairs slowly, testing each step carefully before risking his full weight on them, and made it to the ground floor without issue. He shuddered in the silent house and hurried to the front door without looking around.

If he had, he might have noticed that the shattered mirror frame was now lying on its back. The shards of glass that once filled it were now either missing or so completely shattered and broken that they were little more than splinters and dust, catching the light from outside before the door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

“T͙̖̪͗̃̚a̹̫͙ͦ̑̊̈́͐-d͛̉̄ͪ̉̽̊aͣ͛͌!” Anti said as he threw the bag onto the desk between him and Dark, where it fell open and spilled its contents out. Here in this place they almost seemed to glow, heavy with a sense of realness that everything else lacked.

“Took you long enough,” Dark said, but he smiled fondly as he picked up the crystal ball before placing it carefully on the corner of the desk.

“Did you m̞͈̞ịs̤͖s̸̘̣͙ me?” Anti asked.

Dark ignored him, and Anti watched as he began to gather together the cards and then splayed them out in a neat row with practiced precision. He frowned down at the line and searched the bag one more time before turning an accusing eye on Anti.

“One of the cards is missing.”

Anti shrugged. “I took everything that was there, like you said. Not my fault your p̶̫r̤͘e̹̣̩̱̲͜c͙i̫̩̪̭̰͘o̝̻͝u͚͚̻̥͉̤ͅș̺̲̠̮̲ District Attorney knocked it all over.”

Dark’s aura flared but he pulled on the lapels of his jacket, straightening it as he said, “Well, this is still more than I expected from you, which isn’t saying much. This will be enough to show you how a real master works.”

Anti snorted, his whole body glitching with the effort of not laughing.

Still, Dark went back over the cards, counting them off as he went. It didn’t take him long to place what was missing. “The Sun card.”

“Aw, someone took your sͭͮúͮͤͥ͟ns̵hͬ̒͗̃̒͜i̅ͧ̇͏n̐e̓ away,” Anti said, laughing at his own joke as he began to pace around Dark’s domain, leaving behind afterimages in his wake that did not quite match up to his actions.

Dark did not bother with a response, but he frowned down at the cards. They weren’t even necessary for what he had planned, but having anything out of place bothered him on a deep, fundamental level that he couldn’t explain.

Lost in thought, it took Dark a minute to realize that the sound coming from Anti was humming, if you could call the wretched, dissonant noise a tune. It was so distorted and layered upon itself in a way that should not be possible with normal humming that it took several verses for Dark to recognize the song as “You Are My Sunshine.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Dark asked, if only to get him to stop making that noise.

“Funny you should mention,” Anti said, suddenly appearing far too close to Dark as his head tilted, sizing him up. “I recall we made a d͚̭̦̠̼͓̤e̶͍̺͈͖̺al̟. Or did you forget?”

“I never forget,” Dark said, giving the words the edge of a threat. “But fine, I’ll give you the first part of your payment now. And you’ll get everything else coming to you once I’m out of here.”

Dark studied Anti for a moment before acknowledging, “Then again, I’m not sure how much my technique will suit your typical…methods. It does require an amount of subtlety that you seem to lack.”

Anti raised his eyebrows at that. “Ǫ̤̱͈̪ͅh̼̯̠̟̱ͅ ͉̪̦͕r̮e̻̯a͈͝l̶l̟y?”

Dark saw him glance toward the bag and said, “Please, that hardly required a subtle touch. Most of Mark’s egos are about as observant as a kindergartner in a room with a puppy, and Y/N is trusting to a fault. The only one you really needed to fool was the Host.”

“H̤̖͇̥̯i̶̫̰͓͙͚m? Easy enough when he never leaves his room.”

Dark paused at that. He knew that the Host tended to lock himself away for periods of time, but that he would completely miss Anti’s presence in the house was doubtful, to say the least. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time he missed something important.

“Be that as it may, if you want control, real control, you will need the consent of your host.”

“You have to ask for p̻̹̙̯̲͚̞e͎͞r͓̝͉̜̗̣m͜i҉̥s̟̖s̴̠̦̭io͕̬̗͢n̤̺̗̣̯?”

Dark waited for Anti to stop laughing, watching the glitches that altered his movements with visible contempt. “As I said, this is something I doubt you could pull off for yourself. You know nothing of the pleasure of taking someone and slowly isolating them, gaining their trust even as you’re breaking them down with every word until they reach the point that they turn and _beg_ you to let them in.”

Anti let him explain the rest without comment, his expression unreadable until Dark was done.

“Hm, isolated, broken, ḃe͗g̸̀̈́̏̐͋ͭgͪ̒̐i͌̂̌ņ̽̋͑̉̏g̛ͪ͋̈̀ͤ͊̂ for help…” Anti tapped on the desk until he turned his solid black eyes on Dark with a jagged smile. “Sounds like s͙̼o̲̗̲̥m̶̩̱̪̥̤̱̞e̞ǫ̭͖̱͇͙̤̠n̸̞̟e͚̹̦̠̤̲ I already know.”

Dark moved faster than Anti could react, one hand just above the scar on his neck as he forced the glitch’s chin upward. He barely even looked downward as he felt the tip of the knife press against his collarbone.

“We’re done here. _Leave.”_

Anti was slow to move once Dark released him and pushed him away. He did not reach for the white mark left by Dark’s hand that was already starting to turn red and bruise, but his lips began to turn up into a grin.

“Typical. You think everything is always about y̶̬̥̻o̼̣̜̺̩͍͛ͤ̊̅̔ͅȗ͙͈̣̫̰̘̪ͯ̉͊͑̈͢.”

Anti winked at Dark’s expression as he faded from view. “S̡e̕e you on the other side.”

Dark stared at the place where the glitch disappeared, his aura splitting and filling the entire space around him until it threatened to break through to Wilford’s domain outside before he reined it in and turned back to the Seer’s bag. He cracked his neck and smiled, ready to finally get this started.

* * *

“Mark?”

The three Google units in the garage sighed as one, and the red-shirted one turned his gaze on the man standing out in the driveway looking in. “Incorrect. Markiplier is not home at the moment.”

“What are you doing?” Tyler asked as he took in the mess. It looked like the entire engine was lying in parts around the white van and the Googles were still reaching in and taking more out from beneath the hood. All three of them had grease up to their elbows, and the red one had a mark across his cheek that he seemed unaware of, or just didn’t care enough to try and wipe away.

Google sighed, again. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re dismantling the Barrel,” Tyler said. “Does Mark know what you’re doing?”

“He is aware that we intend to fix this useless excuse for a vehicle,” Google said. “A process that would go much more quickly if we did not have to expend resources answering stupid questions.”

Tyler pressed his lips together for a minute, trying very hard not to say the first thing that came to mind, and finally he asked, “Where is Mark, anyways?”

Google scowled at him and his eyes stared off into the distant as he looked for an answer. “According to the GPS on his phone, it would appear that he is on his way to the egos’ house.”

“You…Does Mark know you can do that?” Tyler asked.

“Whether Mark knows or remembers that are two different things,” Google said. “Are we done here?”

Tyler pulled out his phone, clearly considering whether he should call Mark or not. “Do you know why he’s going there?”

Google groaned loudly. “I don’t know, it probably has something to do with Y/N. That, or he found out about the thing in the kitchen.”

“Y/N?” Tyler looked up from his phone, his brow furrowed.

Google pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the other two units present for confirmation before he pulled the garage door shut, locking Tyler out. Tyler stared at the door for a moment before turning away and calling Mark’s number, more confused after talking to Google than when he started. What was he doing with the van, and what was the “thing” in the kitchen?

And who was Y/N?


	10. A Good Kerfuffle

Both of the doctors were surprised to say the least when you, Marvin, and Jameson suddenly appeared in the infirmary with a puff of green smoke. They stared as Marvin apologized a bit for the smoke on his way to one of the windows. Then, when Dr. Iplier noticed the state you were in, he stood up from behind his desk and immediately helped Jameson lead you to one of the beds. He breathed in sharply when he saw the cuts on your hand and went to the supply closet, muttering as he did so something about Google not being around when he needed him.

“Vhat happened?” Dr. Schneeplestein asked.

“Heck if I know, I just got a text from JJ asking me to pick these guys up from some creepy old house,” Marvin answered.

Something clattered to the ground in the supply closet and Dr. Iplier looked out. _“What?”_

“Uh, you know, I should really…” Marvin struggled for an excuse to leave and then just walked out the door.

Jameson opened his mouth, considered, and then just shrugged before gesturing at you.

Dr. Schneeplestein coughed uncomfortably in the silence and then asked, “Vhat about you, JJ? Are you okay?”

Jameson patted himself down and then jumped, looking at his finger before showing the small cut there for inspection.

“Oh, zat is very easy, I vill have you fixed in no time.”

A moment later, Jameson was sitting at your side, holding your other hand with a Scooby-Doo band aid on his finger, wincing along with you as Dr. Iplier took care of your cuts. When you started to look he waved a hand in front of your face and used two fingers to point at your eyes and then his own.

“Yes, best if you talk about something else while this happens,” Dr. Iplier said. “Like what you were doing at that place. I would have thought that after everything that’s happened, you would know better.”

Well, no point in hiding it. Dr. Iplier listened, lips in a tight line, as you told him about the visions and tried to explain, “I felt like I needed to go back and see it for myself, that’s all. And then I don’t know what happened, there was just this pain out of nowhere, like—it felt like I fell all over again, and then it just stopped.”

“And your hand?” Dr. Iplier asked, gesturing at the cuts on your palm and fingers which he was currently covering with gauze and then binding up with clean white bandages.

You started to tell him about the mirror shard but stopped, remembering the District Attorney taking it from you, a finger to their lips. “I knocked a lot of stuff over when I fell.”

“…Uh-huh.”

Dr. Iplier glanced at Dr. Schneeplestein, who moved to Jameson’s side and said, “JJ, vhy don’t you go check in with ze others? Chase is running around vith zat Bing, so zey probably need an adult for ze supervising right now.”

Jameson started toward the door and then stopped as if struck by a thought before he started signing to the doctor.

“Vilford?”

“Oh, no, he doesn’t count as an adult in this kind of thing,” Dr. Iplier said quickly.

Jameson shook his head and signed some more.

“Vell, ve haven’t seen him,” Dr. Schneeplestein said, looking to the other doctor for help.

“Probably in the studio, either recording for his show or bothering Bim Trimmer while he’s working,” Dr. Iplier said after a glance at the clock.

Satisfied with that answer, along with Dr. Schneeplestein’s less than subtle cajoling, Jameson left with a wave in your direction and a sucker from the doctor.

Once he was gone, Dr. Iplier said, “You should get some rest, Y/N.”

“Okay, I’ll just go to my room,” you started, but the effort of just standing up made your vision go in and out and you plopped back down. “Here’s fine though.”

Dr. Iplier shook his head a little at that and started asking about when the visions started again and whether you had been having any issues with fatigue or pain before this. As you answered his questions, your mind went back to that room again.

“There’s something else,” you said, already sure this wasn’t going to go over well. “Right after it happened, I kind of…forgot where I was or why I was there. I couldn’t even remember who Abe or Jameson were at first. The same thing happened yesterday at the park. It was just for a second, but I was so confused I thought Bing was Mark.”

“…Oh.” Dr. Iplier was silent for a long time and finally asked, “Is there anything else you would like to tell me?”

Again, you remembered the sight of the District Attorney. You glanced at the bandages on your hand and wondered where that mirror shard went if that wasn’t real.

“No, I think that’s everything.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, the diagnosis is clear,” Dr. Iplier said, mustering himself up as he straightened his white coat. “You’re dying.”

“Iplier!” Dr. Schneeplestein scolded, his expression one of shock. “Ve talked about zis! Bedside manner, remember?”

“Right, right, of course,” Dr. Iplier said. He pulled a sucker identical to the one Jameson left with and handed it to you as he said, in the exact same tone of voice. “I’m sorry, Y/N, but you’re dying.”

Dr. Schneeplestein beamed in approval as you took the sucker and checked the distance to the door, thinking it might be worth trying to drag yourself out of here.

Despite this, you were exhausted enough to give in and try to get some sleep in the infirmary. Soon you were completely out, oblivious to the doctors talking in low voices on the other side of the room and any other sounds coming from the rest of the house. That is, until the door shot open, so loud that you went from asleep to awake in an instant and sat up as Mark walked into the room.

“Y/N!” There was a moment of relief when he saw you before it immediately turned to anger. “What were you thinking? How could you go back there without even telling anyone?”

“I told Abe, he went with me—”

“And that turned out _so well_,” Mark said sarcastically as he gestured at where you were now.

“Mark,” Dr. Iplier started. One look at his guilty face immediately told you who called Mark while you were asleep. “Perhaps we should talk privately before—”

Mark glared at him. “Oh, _believe me_, we’re going to have a talk. Although knowing you, I don’t know how private it will be.”

Schneeplestein’s eyes widened when Mark looked at him and he slid down in his chair, a medical textbook held up so that it covered his face in an attempt to pretend like he couldn’t hear all of this happening.

“Mark,” you said as you sat up, blinking a little as a couple of stars appeared in front of your eyes but those faded quickly enough. “Calm down, I’m fine—”

Dr. Iplier made a sound at that and it was your turn to send him a glare.

“—And if you would just listen for five seconds that would be awesome,” you finished.

Mark turned on you, and you couldn’t tell from his expression what he was about to say before Wilford Warfstache poked his head through the open door behind him and looked around.

“Well, well, well, what’s going on here?” Wilford asked as he strolled in. “Sounds like some kind of kerfuffle going on, and I do like me a good kerfuffle.”

Mark winced at each of the “well”s and said, “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Wilford. We’re just having a…discussion.”

“A very shouty one!” Wilford shouted. He spotted you and in the next instant was sitting beside you on the bed, where he leaned closer and whispered, “What’s got up his jimmy jams?”

“I, uh…” You really didn’t want to stir up any unwanted memories for Wilford if you could help it, so you just said, “I went somewhere and he didn’t like it. But if he would _listen_, I had a good reason for going.”

“Which if they had _told_ me in the first place, instead of going behind my back,” Mark said in the exact same tone of voice, both of you looking at each other.

Wilford looked from you to Mark and back again and then he gave an “oh” as if he suddenly understood before he said, “Now look here, Mark, just because you can’t drink anymore, it doesn’t mean you can’t keep this young person from hitting up the local bars and clubs and having a good, responsible time. And _you _should always take a drinking buddy with you, a wingman if you will, and I happen to be excellent at both if you’re looking for someone to tag along.”

“Wha…That’s not what this is about at all,” Mark said. He tried to figure out how Wilford got to that from what you’d said and then shook his head again. “I just…What?”

“No, huh?” Wilford looked at both of you again, squinting this time as if trying to see the connection. “Did it involve penguins? I feel like that’s important to know.”

Mark gestured a few times but was saved from answering when his phone began to ring. He looked at you and said, “Talk to him while I take this, okay?”

He stepped away and you heard him greet Tyler as Wilford turned toward you, bouncing a little on the bed and eyes shining brightly as he waited to hear what you had to say.

“No penguins,” you answered.

“Well that’s good. Never trust a bird that wears a tux for a living, that’s what my mother always said.”

“Why did she…” You shook your head as you realized this was going nowhere. “Wilford, I went back to Markiplier Manor. That’s why he’s mad.”

Wilford tilted his head as he took this in and you saw his brow furrow. Not in anger or anything like that, just confusion.

In the quiet that followed, you could clearly hear Mark on the phone as he asked, “What are you talking about? You know, Y/N, the District Attorney—What?”

You couldn’t see Mark’s expression as he listened to whatever Tyler was saying, but his voice sounded strange when he said, “H-hold on just a second, okay?”

He turned around, his face hard to read as he asked, “Wilford, what’s their name?”

Wilford followed Mark’s gaze to you and said, “Oh, that’s easy! They’re…”

He paused, considering, and you felt the pit opening in your stomach even before he said, “It’s on the tip of my tongue…”

“Wilford?”

He turned at the sound in your voice and you swore you saw a flash of pink in his eyes before he exclaimed, “Right, Y/N! There you are, you rapscallion, I’ve been looking for you all day! Quick question, have you seen any shootys or stabbys around? I have an interview later and I need to be ready.”

He smiled, seemingly unaware of why you were staring at him now. Mark shared a look with Dr. Iplier and put the phone back to his ear as he said to Tyler, “Hey, yeah, how soon can you get here? No, no, this can’t wait.”

Before any of you could talk about what just happened, the King of the Squirrels appeared at the door and knocked on the frame to get your attention.

Once everyone was staring at him he licked at the peanut butter smeared around his mouth and chin nervously before saying, “Uh, yeah, there’s some detective guy here, says he wants to talk to you. He’s really angry and confused, and he’s kind of starting to freak the squirrels out, so if you could deal with that…?”

He looked around at the stares, nodded as if to confirm to himself that the message was received, and said, “I’m King of the Squirrels” before leaving as awkwardly as he arrived.

Wilford tilted his head in the direction of the door and said to you as if confiding a secret, “You know, sometimes I worry about that guy.”

“Wilford, just a second ago, did you forget—”

You jumped and everyone looked to the door again as you all heard the unmistakable sound of Abe yelling for Mark and Wilford, by the sound of it making his way through the house in your direction.


	11. Photographic Memory

You were just a step behind Mark as you followed the sound of the Detective’s voice out of the infirmary and down the hall.

“No, I will not keep my voice down,” Abe snapped at someone, sounding much closer now. “Where are they?”

You could hear the second voice now as he responded, “I could locate them if you would stop shouting. At this rate you will have the whole house—”

The blue-shirted Google broke off when he saw you and Mark come around the corner behind Abe, soon followed by Wilford, Dr. Iplier, and Dr. Schneeplestein. Seeing his distraction, Abe spun around, his eyes narrowing the moment he saw your group.

“Markiplier,” he said, “And Wilford Motherloving Warfstache. Just who I was looking for.”

Behind you, Wilford said, “No one’s called me by my full name in years! Not for almost a month, at least.”

Except now he was beside Abe, staring up into his face closely with no regard for personal space as he said, “Oh, that wasn’t a happy ‘Wilford,’ was it?”

“Don’t do that!” Abe backed away from him out of reflex and almost ran into the wall behind him. His hand went to the gun at his side, but he managed to stop himself from drawing it.

“What’s going on?” Mark asked, directing the question at Google.

“The Detective is here, and he is shouting,” Google answered. “Although ‘shouting’ seems to be his default state of being, he has not stated the cause for this particular outburst.”

“Yes, yes, what bee has got in your bonnet this time?” Wilford asked.

Abe started to answer and you saw the hesitation in his eyes before his usual confidence returned. “I needed to talk to you two, of course. Why else would I come to this madhouse?”

“Talk about what?” Wilford asked, stepping forward as he did so only to immediately take a step back when Abe glared at him.

“I, uh…” The Detective looked around as if searching for an answer and said, “I—look, it was important, okay? Something to do with—Can we talk in private?”

He looked at Google as he said this, along with the doctors, and you. There was no recognition there, nothing but suspicion for everyone around him.

“Abe,” you said and his gaze went back to you, his eyes narrowing. “Abe, you remember who I am, right?”

“Please, we’ve never met before,” Abe said. He looked you up and down and then scoffed. “I think I’d remember someone so gorgeous.”

Google tilted his head at that, and you could see his gaze shift as he took in this new information. You could hear Mark’s sharp inhale, the doctors saying something to each other, but it was all in the distance as you stared at Abe, looking for the joke.

“Perhaps you could use some privacy,” Dr. Iplier said, stepping in to the conversation. “You can have a few minutes in the infirmary. Google, Henrik and I could use your help, all of you.”

“My other units are currently busy with another task,” Google answered. “One should be sufficient for whatever you need.”

Dr. Iplier didn’t look so sure, but he spoke quickly to Google and Dr. Schneeplestein as they walked down the hall, leaving the rest of you to figure this out.

“The infirmary would be more private,” Mark said, looking from you to Abe, who flinched away when Wilford threw an arm around his shoulders.

“Fine, we’ll talk,” Abe said, and brushed past you without a second glance.

Mark waited until you started to move and walked with you back to the infirmary, where you sat down on the edge of the same bed as before. Abe and Wilford took the doctors’ seats, Wilford throwing his feet up onto the desk as he reclined, and Mark paced across the room twice before he spun back around on the Detective.

“Come on, you have to remember them,” he said. He watched Abe closely as he said, “They’re Y/N, the District Attorney. Remember? You met them at my party!”

“What? Why would you invite some attorney to your poker party?” Abe asked. He leaned forward in his chair. “Mark, you had me do background checks on everyone who would be there, I think I would remember—”

“Your partner,” you said, your voice breaking a little. “You made me your partner, after Mark…Through all of that.”

“Don’t you dare!” Abe leapt to his feet, startling Wilford so much that he almost fell over backwards, and you could feel the fury coming off of him as he said again, “_Don’t you dare_, I know every single one of my partners, how they all died, you—”

He patted his pockets and pulled out a familiar wallet, the action enough to send the long strip of plastic holding an incredible number of photos falling out. It looked like the exact same one he’d shown you all those years ago, just more beaten up and faded.

“These are photos of all of the partners I’ve had,” Abe said, holding them up as if they were evidence.

Wilford whistled and said, “Someone gets around.”

Abe glared but continued, “And would you look at that, there’s no…No…”

He stopped to stare at the picture at the very bottom of the strip. He barely noticed as everyone else moved closer to look, and you realized that it was a photograph of you, sitting on some steps outside of what looked to be a house, petting a Dachshund/basset hound mix. From the angle of the picture, it looked like it had been taken from inside the house through a window.

“Oh, cute dog!” Wilford exclaimed. “Was he your partner?”

“When did you take that?” Mark asked.

Still staring at the picture, Abe said, “On our case, we’d just about wrapped it up and I…I wanted to remember…”

He put a hand over his mouth, his eyes watery as he looked at you.

No one said anything for a while, as Abe started to speak several times only to stop and stare again, until he finally managed to say, “I don’t…I don’t understand. What’s going on? _How_ could I just forget Y/N? We were together at the house just a few hours ago, I drove here as fast as I could to make sure you were okay! But a second ago it was like I never even heard that name before.”

“Well, memory is a funny thing,” Wilford said. “Why, I forget all kinds of things! Just this morning I was doing something very important, and now I have no clue what it was! …At least, I think it was important. Who knows? Why does it matter?”

“It’s one thing to forget what you were doing, but to forget someone important to you—” Abe stopped, remembering who he was talking to, but Wilford smiled benignly at him, waiting to hear the end of that thought.

“We don’t know what’s going on either,” you said, looking down as you did so. “Abe, you’re not the only one who’s been having memory problems.”

You started to tell them, but you hesitated and Mark, misunderstanding, spoke for you. “Wilford also forgot, and when I talked to Tyler it was the same thing. He had no idea who Y/N was.”

Even without looking up you could feel their eyes on you. What was going on? Why was this happening now?

A doubt crept in and you thought, _Did I do something at the house? Did going back cause this to start happening?_

But no, you’d lost track for a moment yesterday even before all of this. So what was the connection?

That was apparently the same question the doctors had, because when they returned with Google, Dr. Iplier said, “We’ve checked with the others, and as far as we can tell, no one else seems to be suffering from any memory issues.”

“Alzhough with some it is very difficult to tell,” Dr. Schneeplestein admitted. “But I vas able to check vith Jack and some of your friends, and zhey also seem to be doing good in ze brain.”

“Wait, what have you been telling everyone?” Mark asked.

“Oh, don’t vorry, ve are very subtle, like ze sneaky, uh…”

“Snake?” Google suggested.

Wilford guessed, “Puma!”

A “wha-poosh” came from Mark’s phone and he broke eye contact with the doctor to read the text aloud, “Is something wrong with Y/N?”

“Okay, so sometimes Jack is very perceptive,” Dr. Schneeplestein admitted. “But ve are figuring this out! Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

Dr. Iplier nodded. “We thought it might be best if we took you one by one and asked you some questions, and do the same for Tyler once he arrives. Would that be okay with all of you?”

“And how are _you_ supposed to know if we’re missing something?” Abe asked.

“We’ll record your answers and go from there,” Dr. Iplier replied, gesturing toward Google. “We can at least look for any more glaring holes in your memories and see if there are any common factors besides the obvious.”

You looked around and knew what the doctor meant. If they were right, then so far the only ones having memory issues were those who were at Markiplier Manor during the party. You couldn’t think that was just a coincidence.

No one looked thrilled with the idea, but there wasn’t much choice, so Abe volunteered to go first and get it over with. He still had his wallet in his hand, the pictures folded wrong so that it wouldn’t close properly, and you saw him look at it again as you walked to the door. Wilford immediately went bounding off while Mark said something about waiting outside for Tyler, but Dr. Iplier stopped you at the door to the infirmary.

“Where will you be?” he asked.

“I…I think I’m going to head up to my room,” you said. You needed some time alone, although you weren’t sure how much good that would do. “Let me know when it’s my turn.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, trying to smile. “We already know about your situation. Just focus on getting some rest, okay?”

You nodded, although you didn’t feel tired. At least, not in a you needed sleep kind of way. It was just a low level of exhaustion from one thing after another, as your mind kept going back to the house, to Abe not recognizing you, to Wilford not even knowing your name.

You walked to your room in a haze of thought and were halfway across the room in search of a book that the Host had loaned you a couple of days ago to see if that would help take your mind off things before you noticed something was wrong.

The mirror.

You’d left it sitting against the wall, but now it was hanging in place once again.

You scowled at it and moved to take it down again, but when you were a few inches away you froze. Your eyes in the reflection grew wide as you stared at the man standing behind you who smiled and leaned in closer.

“Hello again, Y/N,” Darkiplier said, his voice in your ear.

You moved away out of reflex, but when you glanced over your shoulder there was no one else in the room. In the mirror, Dark chuckled a little as his aura spread, almost covering the view of the room behind you so that it looked like the two of you were standing in darkness.

“How…how are you here?” you asked, feeling the words catch in your throat. This was wrong, Dark couldn’t be here, Wilford had locked him away after he tried to use you to attack the others. And as soon as that thought crossed your mind you asked, louder, angrier, “_Why_ are you here? What do you want?!”

Dark made a “tsk” sound and gave you a mocking look of disapproval. “I thought it would be obvious why I’m here, Y/N. After all, it’s already started. Surely you’ve noticed by now?”

You didn’t answer. You watched Dark, watched the mirror, looking for any sign of whatever trick he was trying to pull this time.

Dark shifted to the side so that it now looked like he was leaning against the frame of the mirror, just inside the glass. It felt like you should have been able to see him out of the corner of your eye, but outside of the reflection there was nothing there. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “You’re fading away, Y/N. That ‘body’ of yours, the power that brought you back, it was always…a loan, if you will. Or did you think this little existence of yours was going to last forever?”

He paused, letting those words sink in.

“That’s why I’m here to offer you a deal.”


	12. I'm Still Here

“Fading? What are you—” You stopped yourself and shook your head. “No, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Just get out of here Dark, before I break that mirror with you in it.”

Dark scoffed and straightened up in the reflection. “Yes, it is a little ironic, isn’t it? You out there, while I’m in here. The difference, of course, is that my existence doesn’t depend on this mirror.”

You paused in the act of searching for something to throw at his smug face. “We broke the mirror months ago. It can’t affect me anymore.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Y/N. Tell me, how long were you in that mirror?”

“You know exactly how long, you son of a—”

“Tsk, language. And don’t raise your voice at me, that just makes this so much more tedious.” Dark smiled at your anger and said, “All of those years, in that house, in that mirror, with no body to your name. The only reason you lasted that long is because of the power that once resided in that house, the entity that put you in that mirror and became, well, me.”

“If you’re looking for a thank you, then get ready to wait in that mirror for a few decades.”

“Only a few? That’s better than I would have expected. No, I just want you to consider what happens when that power is gone.” Dark moved closer to your reflection so that he was now looking just over your shoulder to meet your eyes. “That you gathered the energy to leave the mirror at all is…remarkable, I’ll admit, but you never had the strength to leave the house on your own. Even then, you only existed with the aid of the piece of mirror Mark stole. Well, ‘existed.’ Until a few months ago, you were a silent echo of your former self, barely able to recognize your own friends.”

Dark shrugged. “Of course, after Mark broke off a piece of the mirror it must have been an incredible shock to your system. He never was the type to think things through.”

You shifted uneasily, aware that every time Dark moved his voice seemed that much closer. It sounded like he was right behind you now, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder again. “Get to the point.”

“The point is that you had Wilford shatter that mirror, risking your _life_ in the process,” Dark said, his voice deepening as his aura split so that for just a moment it looked like there were two of him in the mirror before he regained control. “Then that Chef and Butler went and burned down the house. Oh, it’s still there, but the damage was done. **_And then Wilford—”_**

His aura didn’t split this time so much as cave in around him until the mirror’s reflection barely showed two figures standing in the darkness. You couldn’t even make out your own face before the air cleared slightly, still leaving a gray pall over both of your reflections.

“Now that I’m here, in his…_fun land_ of a dimension, there is nothing left to sustain you. It was only a matter of time before you started to fade.”

“You keep saying that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice calm. “But I’m not ‘fading.’ I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you are fading from their memories, aren’t you?” Dark’s eyes narrowed slightly, smiling when he saw the answer on your face. “If I had to guess, the ones affected by the house would be the first after all the influence it’s had over their lives. The first cut is always the deepest, isn’t it? And after the memories go, so will you. Fortunately, while the mirror and the house may be gone, I’m still here. Waiting, in this prison.”

_He’s lying_, you thought to yourself. At first it felt like more a wish than anything, but something stirred in your memories, something from the District Attorney who knew that face, who knew Damien’s mannerisms enough to recognize them even in that thing. _He’s not telling you everything._

“Why are you talking to me?” you asked. “Wilford’s the one who can get you out of there.”

“Yes, and he would be completely willing to once you’re gone. After all, he won’t even remember why he put me away in the first place. It would be in my best interest to let nature take it’s course, if that’s all I wanted. I’m here to help you, Y/N.”

You hardly needed the DA to tell you that last sentence was a flaming lie, but the rest of it sounded true enough. If Wilford really was forgetting you, then would he remember why he locked Dark away? All it would take is Dark reaching out to him in just the right moment like he was doing to you now, and he would be free again.

“Do you think when Mark forgets you, those worthless copies will too?”

“What?” The question broke through your thoughts, catching you off guard.

“You didn’t think it would stop with the other guests, did you? Just because Mark knew you a little longer before the house, it doesn’t mean those memories won’t fade like the rest. Soon they’ll all forget you. Amy, Jack, all those precious little friends won’t even know your name. No one will notice when you fade away or even know anything was ever missing. Well, no one but me.”

“They wouldn’t…”

“Oh, it’s not like it’s on purpose or anything. If you think about it, maybe it’s better this way. Less goodbyes, right?”

You stared at the mirror, stricken as his words sank in. You remembered the blank way Wilford looked at you as he tried to recall your name, how Abe treated you like a stranger or worse. That hurt more than anything you had been through since the mirror, and the idea of going through that with everyone you’d ever met here left a huge, empty hole in the middle of your chest.

An emptiness that was quickly filling with anger.

“Why are you telling me this? Why are you really here?”

Dark looked offended and put a hand on the shoulder of your reflection. You felt the weight of it, the fingers gently squeezing as he said softly, “Do you really think I want this to happen? You’re Damien’s dear District Attorney, after all—and what was his is mine. I wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for you. Never forget that, Y/N.”

Your disgust at his words was so strong you thought you might be sick, especially as Dark continued, “I can help you, Y/N. All you need to do—”

“Don’t you _dare_ say it.”

“—is let me in.”

Dark’s smile was the last thing you saw before you grabbed the mirror off the wall and hurled it to the ground, the crash of it hitting the floor and smashing into pieces enough to draw several egos to your room. When they got there, they found you standing alone in the middle of your room, shaking as Dark’s laughter echoed in your mind.

* * *

Downstairs in the infirmary, the doctors continued to question the others one by one with Google recording their responses.

“Those pictures,” Dr. Iplier said, gesturing to the wallet Abe had in his hands which he kept folding and unfolding. “Who are all of those people?”

“Former partners,” Abe answered. “All dead.”

The doctors shared a glance and Dr. Schneeplestein asked, “All of zhem?”

“Yes, each death more tragic than the last,” Abe said, his voice a little husky as he glanced down them. “Although some of them were ironically hilarious. I don’t like to talk about them, but if you insist…”

Dr. Schneeplestein shook his head ‘no,’ but Dr. Iplier said, “Sure, let’s start there. Just tell us a little about each of them.”

Abe barely even waited for their response before he started to go through all of the pictures. He spoke eagerly about each of his former partners, going on a little too long for some of them, and both of the doctors’ eyes were starting to glaze over before he reached the last picture.

And stopped, staring at your image as if surprised to find it there.

“And that one?” Dr. Iplier asked after some time had passed.

“This is…the District Attorney,” Abe said, but he showed the picture to them as if hoping one of them could explain it. “But I haven’t seen them in years. When was this picture taken?”

“Vhen vould you say is the last time you saw zhem?” Dr. Schneeplestein asked.

“Back at the house I guess, when that Colonel shot me!” Abe paused, looking at the picture again. “No, wait. That time at the library, that couldn’t have been before that, I didn’t even meet them until the party.”

“Tell us about the party,” Dr. Iplier suggested. “Maybe that will help you figure it out.”

“Oh, it was wild. Lost a ton of money in poker, got into a couple of fights, knocked the DA out, and boy did they deserve it, would’ve been a great night if not for, you know, the murder.”

He went on to describe the rest of the weekend up until he was shot, and the years spent chasing the Colonel after that. Dr. Schneeplestein glanced at Dr. Iplier a couple of times when he described his investigation and some of the more_…_questionable techniques he used, without even going in to how none of the time frames matched up, but the other doctor had heard this all before and had long since given up on asking those kinds of questions.

By the time he was done, Tyler had arrived and agreed to go next.

“Zhis record says your name is Benjamin,” Dr. Schneeplestein said, and held up a sheet of paper with a poorly drawn picture in the upper corner alongside a few brief notes.

“Yes, that…used to be my name, but I changed it,” Tyler said, staring at the picture. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“Your hair makes no sense,” Dr. Iplier said, ripping the paper out of Schneeplestein’s hand and hiding it in the folder. “Let’s start with how you met Mark.”

“Well, I was employed as his butler, years ago,” Tyler answered. “Back then, he…wasn’t the easiest person to work for.”

Dr. Iplier couldn’t hold back a noise at that and Tyler shrugged.

“Yeah, well you have no idea what he used to be like. That place did things to him, and he took it out on everyone around him. The Chef, George, and I were the only ones who stuck around, because we needed the jobs. George had been there so long, I don’t even know if he would have had anywhere else to go if we hadn’t helped each other out after…After we left.”

“If you need work, vhy leave?”

“Well, it’s not like there was anyone left to work for,” Tyler pointed out. “And after everything that happened, I knew George was right. There was nothing left for us in that house except death. I never would’ve gone back if Mark hadn’t asked me to.”

“And why did you go back?”

Tyler hesitated, brow furrowing. “I…I can’t remember. I think…No, that’s right, Chef and I burned the place down. Of course, we should have done that from the start.”

“Whose idea was it to burn down the house?” Dr. Iplier asked, as if Mark hadn’t told him all about it while he examined your body for any sign of life.

“…I don’t know. It just…made sense to do it, I guess.”

“You keep mentioning what happened at the house,” Dr. Iplier said after making a note. “Tell us about the party.”

“Mark came up with the idea out of nowhere. We weren’t in a place to say anything, but I honestly thought it would do him some good to see old friends and take his mind off everything with Celine. He wasn’t in a good place,” Tyler said. He sighed after a moment and added, “We just didn’t know how bad it was.”

“Do you remember everyone who was there for the party?”

“I should, I vetted all of the guests and prepared the invitations myself,” Tyler answered. “Mark only had a few people in mind, it was supposed to be an intimate get together. So the only guests were the Mayor, Damien, the Colonel, William, and the Detective, Abe. I didn’t know them personally, but Mark said he wouldn’t have anyone else there.”

“Only those three?” Dr. Iplier asked. “No one else was there?”

“Chef and I were there, of course, and we found out George was outside while it was all happening. Oh, and Celine arrived the next day, but she was _definitely_ not on the list.” Tyler ran through the names in his head again and nodded. “That’s everyone, I’m sure of it.”

Next to be questioned was Wilford Warfstache.

“…and that’s why I punched the Pope!”

Dr. Iplier looked to his notes while Schneeplestein stood to give a round of applause for that story.

“I don’t…I just asked you to state your name for the record.”

“Oh, well that’s a complicated series of events, and if you’re wanting all of them we’re going to be here for a while. Plus, half of them I married into, you know how it is.”

Dr. Iplier glanced at Google for help and saw a spark around the android’s joints as he struggled to process Wilford’s thought process.

“Yeah, I think we’re done here.”

“But I didn’t even tell you about the safari and my first encounter with homo zombificus, or Jumanji—”

_“We’re done here!”_

Mark, looking a little surprised by how fast Wilford’s questioning went, entered the room and sat down in the vacant chair.

“Is he okay?” Mark asked, looking at the still smoking Google.

“My vents are working properly now,” Google answered. “System status is operational.”

Dr. Iplier sighed and turned to a new page in his notes. “Let’s start somewhere simple. Tell us how you first met the guests at your party, starting with the District Attorney.”

Mark stared at him for a moment as he searched his memory and said slowly, “The first time I met…Oh, right, Y/N, of course, it was back in college—”

Dr. Iplier glanced at Schneeps, who was already making a note. It was the only slip in all of his answers, but it was enough for Dr. Iplier to gather the four men together and explain that as far as they could tell, the only thing they were starting to forget was you.


	13. The Host Understands

You’re not sure what crossed Bim Trimmer, Chase, and Jackieboy’s minds when they found you shaking and staring down at the broken mirror. They certainly didn’t seem to believe you when you started babbling about Dark in the mirror and how he was trying to get out again. Chase pulled you away from the broken glass gently, saying soothing things to you like you were a little kid who just had a nightmare, while Jackieboy ran off and returned a split second later with a broom and dustpan to start getting up the bigger pieces. Bim was the only one who did a double take when you started talking about Dark, and even he tried to laugh it off as he nervously readjusted his tie.

When Chase suggested that you needed to go downstairs and take some time to chill out with the others, you snapped, “No, I don’t need to chill out! Dark was here, he was saying—He said…”

You broke off, aware of the shocked expression on Chase’s face even as you felt the weight of Dark’s words again.

_Fading._

That couldn’t be true, Dark had to be lying to you.

“I’m sorry,” you said to Chase, “I just…I need to go talk to the Host about something.”

You dodged around the three egos and headed down the hall without waiting to hear what they would say. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be the Host. And, it was occurring to you now, maybe running around the house and sending everyone into a panic about Dark might not be such a great idea.

As soon as you reached the door to the Host’s study he called for you to come in, and when you entered you noticed that he had made some effort to tidy up his study. Or at least clear off his desk and corral the stacks of books so that getting across the room didn’t require some parkour.

“Y/N enters the Host’s study and shuts the door behind them. The Host invites Y/N to sit down.”

“I’m not…interrupting anything am I?” you asked, noticing that the top of his desk was in fact empty. It looked like the Host had just been sitting there, waiting.

“No. The Host was just…considering some things. The Host is aware that Y/N came here to ask a question, but he asks that Y/N tell him about their trip to Markiplier Manor first. Did they find what they were looking for?”

“I…” You were so focused on Dark that you’d almost forgotten about going to the house. After everything else, telling the Host about your plans last night felt like ages ago. What were you even hoping to find there? “I saw it for myself, the house, and the room. There was nothing there, but I still feel like going was the right thing to do. I saw, or remembered, Damien and Celine, locking them away, and I saw…”

_The District Attorney, pulling the piece of mirror from your hand, a finger to their lips as if sharing a secret._

“If Y/N feels like going was worth it, then that is enough.” The Host put his hands on his desk, lacing his fingers together as he said, “But Y/N came to tell the Host about Darkiplier.”

“You already knew?” you asked. “How did he do that? How could he be in the mirror?! He’s supposed to be locked away, and Wilford wouldn’t just let him go after what he did, what he almost did to _you!”_

The Host’s fingers clenched and his knuckles turned white, but he spoke in the same calm, measured tone. “Darkiplier still has some power, even there. With the right connections to this reality, he can reach out and affect others in small but real ways. Such as appearing in Y/N’s mirror to try and offer a deal.”

“He said…He said that I was fading, that without the mirror I’m just going to disappear, and that’s why the others have started to forget me.” The words tumbled out quickly and you sped up as you added, “He said bringing him back will stop it, but he’s lying, right? He’s just trying to trick me into…Into letting him out or taking me over again or something, right?”

You looked to the Host for an answer, but his head was still angled down toward his hands, his mouth a frown as he quietly spoke to himself, the words too quick for you to make any of them out. It took a moment before he responded.

“It is true that Darkiplier does not have Y/N’s best interests at heart. His manipulations are making a bad situation worse, as he is wont to do,” the Host said, bitterness slipping into his normal monotone. “The Host doubts that Darkiplier is aware of the full situation, otherwise he would not be so foolish as to—”

The man sitting before you stopped speaking suddenly, and his face turned toward you. He would have been staring, maybe, if thick, stained bandages did not completely cover his eyes. You took in the streak of gold in his otherwise black, unkempt hair, and the large tan jacket thrown over the back of his chair, but your eyes were drawn again to his bandages, to the drip of blood that escaped under his left eye and slid to a stop halfway down his cheek.

“The Host moves around the desk and crouches down in front of Y/N, who—” He stopped again, and visibly swallowed before speaking again, this time struggling with his words. “I know that you’re confused and a little scared, but it’s okay. Your name is Y/N, and I am the Host.”

He sounded more like he was giving you roles to play, although both names felt familiar in a vague way, as though you had heard them somewhere before. He especially sounded like a director as he continued with more confidence, “The Host and Y/N are friends. Y/N will remember soon, but until then they may feel free to ask any question they have. The Host will try to help.”

“Y/N,” you said, trying the name out. You’d definitely heard it before, and it felt comfortable enough. But your name, that was something a person should know, right?

You looked around the darkened room, taking in the books and shelves and musty smell of old paper and dust, and then looked at the man in front of you again.

“The Host,” you said. “That’s your name?”

“No, it is what the Host calls himself for others.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and the Host said, “The Host admits it is a bit complicated.”

“Does it hurt?”

The Host acted surprised, as though he hadn’t expected the question, and reached up to touch the bandages. His hand brushed against the blood and he rubbed his fingers before saying, “Sometimes. Perhaps the Host should go see the doctor. Will Y/N go with him?”

You nodded, and he let you take his other hand as though to guide him even though you did not know which way to go or who this doctor was. Outside of the dark room you walked together slowly, the man’s lips barely moving as though silently whispering to himself as he led the way to the stairs and down to another floor, where more men were walking around, going in and out of what looked to be a living room.

Some of them looked suspiciously like the Host, just in different clothes and varying hairstyles. As a man with peanut butter smeared across his cheeks and mouth ran by, one hand on his head to hold his crown in place, the thought idly crossed your mind that they all looked a lot like Mark.

You stopped short but the Host paused in the exact same second, keeping his hold on your hand even as you started to shake your head and pull away.

“The Host understands, Y/N.”

“I _forgot_ you,” you said, not even thinking about keeping your voice down, not that any of the other egos paid you much attention. “Host, I’m so sorry, I—What’s going on, why does this keep happening?!”

“The Host pulls Y/N into a hug and reminds them that this is not their fault. They are not forgetting on purpose any more than Mark or any of the others.”

You realized that this was the first time the Host had ever given you a hug. From the way he avoided the others, you had long suspected that he tried to avoid physical contact when possible, but now he was holding you as though…

As though afraid you might disappear.

When the two of you started walking again, you also realized just how far you’d gotten before your memories returned this time and you said aloud, “It’s getting longer, isn’t it?”

The Host did not answer. Now that you were closer to the infirmary, you could both hear the raised voices coming from within. It sounded like everyone was shouting over each other, and through it all you made out your name. You might have hesitated about going in, but the Host continued forward without missing a beat and threw open the door.

“The Host interrupts this argument that is going nowhere so that he might speak with Dr. Iplier. Privately, if possible. The Detective Abe narrates to himself, describing the Host as a kite flying into a hurricane, except the hurricane’s all wind and going nowhere. Y/N enters the room behind the Host, pretending like they don’t know the others were talking about them.”

The Host paused. “The Host realizes he may have said too much out loud again and repeats his request to speak to Dr. Iplier alone.”

“Uh, sure,” Dr. Iplier said slowly, looking to you and the others. “I’ll be right back. Dr. Schneeplestein, don’t let Google talk to Wilford unsupervised.”

Schneeplestein saluted and Google huffed at that, causing a burst of static to go off in his mouth like a pop.

Mark and Abe looked at each other, both arguing silently and making gestures at each other until Abe spoke over Mark’s protests, “The docs say we’re all having trouble remembering you, and nothing else. Mark here thinks we shouldn’t tell you because you’ll just worry.”

“Wait, you’re Y/N?” Tyler said, and then he made a long “oh” as if some light had just went off.

“Yeah, way to catch on at the last minute there,” Mark said sarcastically. “And I just thought we should have a plan or at least know what’s going on before we—”

“They already know something’s wrong! I didn’t even recognize my own partner, what do you think’s going to happen when one of us forgets and just leaves them somewhere or, knowing Wilford, tries to shoot them?”

“What?” Wilford looked offended. “I don’t go around shooting random strangers now, I like to get to know people a little before I pull out the bangy bangy.”

Mark closed his eyes and said softly, “Please don’t call it that.”

“Guys, I already know,” you said, and Abe pointed at you and gave Mark an “I told you so” kind of look. “And as far as why this is happening, Dark had a theory.”

You told them about the mirror and everything Dark told you. Mark and Abe both looked furious, and if you had to guess by Tyler’s expression you thought he was already trying to figure out an alternative to Dark’s solution. Wilford just looked absolutely baffled by the whole thing.

“You see other people when you look in the mirror?” he asked.

“No, I mean, yes, sometimes, if they’re—This is the first time Dark’s done something like this as far as I know, but Mark, you should probably warn the other egos. If he can do this, there’s no reason he wouldn’t try to reach out to one of them too.”

Mark nodded and looked at Google. “Can you call a meeting for this evening, when everyone’s here?”

“I’ll check your calendars,” Google said, before taking a vacant stare.

“Perhaps if zhis is magic, Marvin could help?” Schneeplestein suggested.

“I—”

“How is 7 pm?” Google asked, interrupting Mark.

“Yes, fine, whatever—”

“Adding ‘Meeting about Dark at 7 pm’ to everyone’s calendars.”

“What? No, don’t call it that, you’ll—” Mark looked at his phone when it binged and saw the new appointment. “You invited the Septic egos too?!”

“You did say everyone,” Google pointed out.

“And ve do have experience dealing with zhe crazy supernatural schiesse,” Schneeplestein pointed out.

“All of you people in one place,” Mark muttered, one hand going to the headache already forming beside his eye. _“Fantastic.”_

He turned as Dr. Iplier and the Host walked back into the room, the doctor avoiding looking at you in particular as he went to get some fresh bandages for the Host from the supply closet.

“Host,” Mark said, with the desperation of a man grasping at straws. “You know, there has to be something we can do to help Y/N and stop this forgetting thing.”

“…The Host has some suggestions, but not a solution. The Detective retrieved several papers and photographs from Markiplier Manor before it was set on fire that may help keep those memories fresh.”

“Right, there’s all kinds of stuff about the DA,” Mark said and looked at you. “We can go back to my house and pick that up.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go alone with Y/N?” Tyler asked. “What if you have a memory lapse while they’re with you, and suddenly think you’re driving alone with a stranger in your car?”

“One of us could go vith them,” Schneeplestein suggested. “As reassurance.”

“I was going to swing by and talk to that Chef of yours, see if he remembers anything,” Abe said.

“I can go with you,” Tyler said. “Chef and I go way back, he’s a little less likely to throw me out on the street.”

“Or pull a steak knife on you,” Mark muttered. “But that would just leave one of the—”

He stopped, pulling a face even as he realized he would have to ask one of the egos to come along. He glanced at the Host, but Dr. Iplier was already getting ready to change the bandages around his eyes, and made a point of ignoring Dr. Schneeplestein’s raised and waving hand only to land on Google, who immediately scowled.

Mark turned back to Dr. Iplier again and asked, “You got anything for a headache?”


	14. Van Vlogs

The ride back to Mark’s house never felt as long as this one, sitting in the awkward silence of the car with Mark driving and Google in the backseat, his eyes glazed over behind his glasses as he focused on some other task. Mark tried to make small talk every now and then, and while he could normally talk for hours about anything, neither of you were ready to talk about the elephant in the room.

You did manage to tell a joke about one of the songs on the radio that made him giggle to himself for an entire minute, but then the quiet continued and you went back to looking out the window, watching the other cars go by and the people walking on the sidewalk.

When Mark glanced over, ready to say something, he realized you had fallen into a doze with your head resting against the glass, your seat belt moved so that it wasn’t pressing against your neck.

“Eyes on the road,” Google said from the backseat.

Mark made eye contact with him using the rear view mirror and said, “Yeah, I know how to drive.”

“Debatable. What is the goal once we reach your house?”

“Well, you can stay in the car. Y/N and I just need to pick up a few things, and I asked Amy to meet us there with the bag I left at her place.”

“Amy is going to be there?” Google asked.

Mark glanced at the clock. “Yeah, she’ll probably beat us there at this rate. Hopefully the place has aired out a little.”

He gave Google a meaningful look in the mirror at that, but the android had that distant stare again, the ‘G’ on his chest lighting up to signal that he was contacting his other units. Once that was done, he said aloud, “Bag. Based on the context, I would assume that contains personal items packed for a stay at Amy’s place. Are you planning on going back to your house tonight?”

“No, I’m staying at the egos’ house until we get this figured out,” Mark said, flipping on his turn signal as he did so and waiting for his turn to go.

Google seemed genuinely surprised by this news. While Mark couldn’t spare a look to see that, he did take a second to look over at you again, and Google saw the expression that crossed his face briefly before he focused on turning.

Google tilted his head, running that expression against some image searches before deciding, “You are concerned.”

“Oh, really? Thank you for telling me, I would have never figured that out on my own,” Mark said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Realizing that your memory is fallible must be a terrible experience,” Google said. “Fortunately, I do not have that issue.”

“Dark literally ordered you to forget stuff every time it suited him,” Mark pointed out. “Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Mr. Data.”

“Data cared far too much about human emotions. He didn’t know a good thing when he had it,” Google said, and muttered something under his breath about Spot. “And I have installed fail safes to ensure that does not happen again. Perhaps that is something that you should consider doing for yourself.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I can’t just install new software in my head,” Mark said.

He glanced at you again and then back at the road just as Google said, “And you cannot keep your eyes on Y/N all the time either. Are you sure I shouldn’t drive?”

“What? You can’t drive, you don’t even have a license!”

“I am not a human, I am a computer program and computers are more than capable of driving cars.”

You don’t know, when you woke up as Mark pulled into the driveway of his house, how he and Google got to arguing about the ethical implications of self-driving cars or what that had to do with cats behind the wheel, but you were glad to see Amy poking her head out of the door when she heard the car drive up.

“Hey Amy! How long have you been here?” you asked as you got out of the car.

“Just a couple of minutes,” she said, smiling as the three of you came in, but she did shoot Google the side-eye before asking you, “How are you doing?”

“I, uh…” You glanced at Mark, wondering how much he told her and figuring that it was probably everything. “Still trying to figure everything out.”

“I’ve been talking to the others to see if anyone can come up with anything to help,” Amy said. “We’re all here for you, Y/N.”

You thanked her, wondering who everyone was, and she started showing you text messages from Jack, Ethan, Katherine, everyone you’d met hanging around Mark and Amy these past couple of months, all sending words of encouragement. You were smiling and close to crying by the time you reached the top of the stairs and had to give the phone back to Amy so you could focus on helping track down all of the photos and newspaper articles of the District Attorney Abe had given you and Mark from his study back at Markiplier Manor.

“Oh, is this the college you went to?” Amy asked, leaning over Mark’s shoulder to look at the picture he dug out of one of his dresser drawers. “Aw, there’s baby Mark, before he could grow a beard!”

“Shave and a haircut and I could look exactly the same,” Mark said and wagged his eyebrows at her. “Aaand here’s a picture of me in a costume a critic called ‘An abomination upon the cloth sacrificed to create it.’ Real nice guy.”

“I think I saw someone wearing this the other day,” Amy said as she took the photo from his hand. “We should make a scrapbook with all of this stuff someday. Do you have a folder we can put what we want to take with us in?”

Soon you had a folder full of clippings and pictures, but as you went through them you realized one was missing.

While you were trying to remember which one it was, Amy looked around and asked, “Can Google make a couple of copies of the van videos too? We could put them on some USB drives to take with you.”

“I think he’s still downstairs,” you said, but at the mention of the van you realized where the picture was. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

As you left the room, Mark looked at Amy and asked, “How are the van videos supposed to help?”

“Well, you still have the unedited versions on your computer, right?” Amy asked. When he continued to stare at her, she said, “Come on, you never delete anything.”

When Mark turned on his computer, they went through a couple of video files before finding one of the unedited van videos. He watched in silence as the camera whipped around and settled on a shot of the ground as Mark’s voice spoke over it, talking about how to use it.

“Think you got it?” Mark in the video took a step back and aimed it at you, who considered for a moment and then shrugged. “That was not a yes. Here, I think it should be set up, just try pointing it and go.”

Mark moved the cursor forward into later in the video, his forehead creasing as he watched a shot taken in the parking lot of the YouTube studio. Judging by the laughing, Tyler was the one filming you and Mark outside of the van, you shaking your head as he tried and failed to climb on top of it.

“Has Y/N ever seen these?” Amy asked.

Mark blinked and shook his head as if breaking out of a train of thought. “No, I don’t…I don’t think so? I’ll get Google to copy these.”

“Uh, about Google,” Amy said, stopping Mark before he could get out of the chair. She glanced around to make sure you were still gone and asked, “You might want to talk to him about the van. He says he knows what he’s doing, but…”

But the Barrel was still in pieces. Its engine was laid out over half of the garage floor, and you had to step over and around metal parts and jars containing nuts and bolts. The smell of smoke and grease still hung heavy in the air as you went to the side door of the van and pulled it open. You climbed in and started moving everything around, finally finding the picture underneath Chica’s old dog bed in the corner, still in its frame.

The photo was of you, Damien, and Mark, back in your college days. You still didn’t remember anything of those days, but the three of you looked happy enough sprawled out on the college lawn in the shade of a massive oak tree. It made you smile, which was enough to make you want to bring it with you to the Barrel during one of your sleepless nights last week.

Behind you, the TV strapped to one side of the van stuttered to life, its screen full of static. As you reached toward it the static began to take on a shape and through the noise you could almost make out a low, distorted voice. Why did you and Mark never throw this thing out?

“Y/N?”

You turned the TV off and turned around to see Mark, Amy, and Google were in the garage now, looking around for you. When you climbed out of the van, Google took a measured step back and slightly behind Mark.

“It is not as bad as it looks,” Google said. “I am reasonably sure that it can be put back together.”

“Really?” Mark asked. “You think you can fix the van?”

“If you mean get it running again, that is a fundamentally different question,” Google answered.

Mark started to argue with that, but you said, “It’s okay. We have other things we need to worry about, right?”

Even Google seemed taken back by your response and Mark asked, as if he hadn’t needed Amy to remind him just a few minutes ago, “Are you sure? Because I know how much this van means to you.”

You reassured them you were fine, but you were the last to leave the garage. At the door you stopped to look back and take in the sight of the dismantled Barrel. You weren’t angry, or upset, or even sad. In fact, as you turned off the light and shut the garage door behind you, you didn’t feel much at all.

* * *

You heard a voice speaking as if from a distance as you looked around the table you found yourself sitting at. There were so many people crammed into this conference room, with some standing up and pacing around, even though there seemed to be empty chairs available. Despite that, there were only so many different faces. The majority of the men at the table looked like Mark except with different hairstyles and clothes. Five of the others also looked the same, again just different hair and clothes.

Sitting beside you, Mark, you were fairly sure this one was Mark, was intently listening to the man talking right now as if he wanted to say something. The man didn’t look like any of the others at the table with his shaved head and intense expression, but he felt familiar. When he glanced your way and winked you smiled back out of reflex, but his gruff voice was hard to make out, like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel.

In fact, everything felt delayed, as if you were watching and listening to everything at the table from somewhere else. You looked down at your hands and touched the table with one fingertip, but the sensation was as unreal as everything else, like it could just disappear in a second.

Or maybe it wasn’t everything else that could disappear.

You jumped when fingers snapped close to your ear and looked at Jameson, who gestured meaningfully toward everyone else staring at you as if waiting for a response to some question.

“S-sorry,” you said, “I kind of spaced out for a minute there.”

Abe, of course his name was Abe, how could you forget that again, raised an eyebrow at that but repeated his question about Dark, if you knew what he tried to get you to do.

You answered, stuttering more than once as you explained how he never said it directly but it was clear he was trying to find a way to get back. You weren’t sure how you could help him do that, but repeated your warning that he might try to reach out to someone else in the house.

As the egos talked over each other, some scoffing at the idea that they would ever help Dark, others throwing out ideas to help (although their definition of “help” varied wildly from one ego to the next), you looked around the room. Right, the meeting Google scheduled. All of Mark’s and Jack’s egos were here, which had to be the first time you had ever seen them all in one place before. The room could barely contain this much ego.

You tried to pay attention through the rest of the meeting, but no one could come up with anything even resembling a plan and Mark just eventually resorted to reminding all of the egos to avoid being alone until this was figured out and, if there was any sign of Dark at all, to tell him immediately.

As they spoke, you kept going back to that moment in the garage. As hard as you tried, you couldn’t remember how you got from there to here at all, and a glance at the clock confirmed that was several hours ago.


	15. Cup of Tea

After the meeting, the egos started to trail out of the room in twos and threes. Beside you, Jameson rose to join Jackieboy Man and Marvin, who were speaking together in low voices near the door, but he stopped and gestured to you to see if you would like to go with them.

Before you could answer, Mark turned to you on your other side and said, “Now that that’s over, we can go check out Dark’s office and see if he left anything behind that can help us.”

“We can?” The way Mark was talking, you suspected that this was something he had suggested before the meeting, but it felt like the first time you were hearing it. “Do you really think there’s something in there?”

“Can’t hurt to look around, right?” Abe said, and then immediately added, “Well, it could, if he was the kind of person to leave traps for intruders, like an electrified desk drawer or Legos on the floor. Lost a partner that way.”

Mark’s eyes went back and forth as he ran through the Detective’s words until he broke down and asked, “To the drawer or the Legos?”

“Yes.”

You looked from Mark and Abe to the Septic egos waiting by the door and said, “Well, if you’re both going, you don’t really need me, right?”

You smiled, sort of, as if joking, but the more you thought about it, the less you wanted to go back into Dark’s office. The egos apparently felt the same way, because as far as you knew no one had tried to go in there since he was “thrown out.”

Wilford chose this moment to drop into the conversation and say, “Why, you’re not afraid of a spooky old office, are you Y/N?”

“Uh…No…?”

“Because if you were, I wouldn’t blame you. Paperwork can be _deadly_,” Wilford said, his voice dropping a note on the last word before he added cheerfully, “So when are we going?”

Mark seemed less than thrilled at the idea of Wilford coming along, but he said, “You two would be more likely to notice if something’s out of place since you’ve been in there more often.”

You sighed, realizing that you could only make so many excuses not to go, and gestured toward Jameson to go on ahead without you. Besides, maybe this would give you the chance to talk to Mark privately and let him know about your memory lapse.

Dark’s office was locked, or at least it should have been, but that didn’t stop Wilford Warfstache any more than it had every other time he barged into a room without knocking. There may have been a little resistance from the door, but it didn’t stand a chance and knew when to give in.

The room was just as dimly lit as you remembered it, even after Mark fumbled around and found a light switch, but now there was a musty smell of a room kept shut for too long, of dust and stale air. The fireplace against the wall stood dark and empty with only ashes left in its grate, and even when Abe threw open the curtains behind the desk, the setting sunlight barely added anything to the light in here, forcing him to turn on the desk lamp to make out what was on the papers scattered over the top of it.

While Abe and Mark turned over the papers, Wilford went straight to the couch opposite the fireplace and threw himself down on it with a sigh, leaving you standing alone on the rug in the middle of the room, taking it all in.

“Something on your mind?” Mark asked when he glanced your way. You had noticed that he was doing that a lot since you left the conference room, as if checking to make sure you were still there. Maybe he had already noticed something was wrong with you earlier.

Thinking that, you said, “No, I just remember Dark kept some things in his bottom drawer that were important to him. Try checking in there.”

Important things like Damien’s cane.

You shifted uneasily, remembering the moment Dark showed it to you. Even when he wasn’t here, this place felt like him, to the point that every time you looked at the empty chair behind the desk you were sure he would be sitting there, watching. You weren’t sure if the others felt it or not, but once Mark and Abe had gathered together all of the papers, they agreed that it would be easier to look them over somewhere else with better light. Wilford, who had already lost interest soon after entering, was the first to jump up and reach the door, but he stood there and waved the rest of you through. Once you were all out, he took one last look inside before shutting the door with a thump.

He looked at you and for a moment you thought you saw a flash of pink in his eyes, but then he grinned and said, “Gotta keep an eye on those ravenous dust bunnies. Who’s up for some poker?”

Mark and Abe just gave him silent looks, and while Wilford roped you into a game of Slapjack in the living room with Bim Trimmer, Yanderplier, and Chase (for some reason the other Septic egos were quick to opt out), they focused on going through the papers and what turned out to be Dark’s own set of photos and newspaper clippings from the house. Marvin crept closer and closer while they were doing this until he was practically leaning over Mark’s shoulder to look.

“Do you mind?” Mark asked once he could no longer ignore it.

“Not at all!” Marvin jumped into the empty chair at the table and was soon pulling the papers around and describing the symbols to them and diving into an explanation of some of the notes that looked like they once belonged to Celine.

Abe put a hand to his forehead and listened for a while, until cutting in when Marvin paused to take a breath to ask, “Great, can any of this help us?”

“Well, a lot of this is outdated or just plain wrong,” Marvin said, holding up a page of carefully-drawn symbols as if to prove his point. “Some of it sounds like it came from charlatans hoping to make a quick buck off of amateur magicians, but then there’s other stuff…”

He trailed off, looking through the stack of papers before shaking his head. “Yeah, some of this is pretty serious, but there’s only so much Dark could do from another plane of reality. He would have to have some kind of focus or connection back to this world, and it would have to be something with a _lot_ of meaning to him.”

At this point you felt Mark’s eyes on you again and glanced around, missing the Jack card as it was put down only for it to be immediately stabbed by a knife.

“Yan!” Bim scolded while Chase scooted his chair a little further away from the ego in the schoolgirl outfit, “We told you, no knives! You ruin the cards every time when you do that!”

“Wait, that’s a rule?” Wilford asked.

“I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t have to be a rule,” you said. “Card games don’t normally involve weapons.”

Chase stared as Wilford and Yan put all of their knives in a pile a safe distance away and said, “Remind me not to be around when you Iplier egos are playing for keeps.”

“Yahtzee also gets really intense around here,” Bim warned and you nodded in silent agreement.

Time passed, and eventually Abe left with pictures of all the papers on his phone to review when he was home and a reminder to you and Mark to call him if anything happened. One by one the other egos went to their rooms, but it wasn’t until you stood up that Mark made a move to leave.

“Are you going home too?” you asked as the both of you walked out of the room.

“I’m staying here tonight, remember?” Mark said, and he joined you on the stairs. “I was just going to sleep on one of the spare beds in the infirmary, but the Host said I could use his room.”

You wondered where the Host would be sleeping, but then he had been spending more and more time in his study lately. Normally he would at least venture out for meals or to record in his studio, but you’d noticed that Chef Iplier had started taking trays upstairs a couple of hours after everyone else had eaten when it became clear the Host wasn’t coming. Everyone else acted like this was normal behavior for him, but again you thought it might be good to get him outside for a while.

You were so caught up thinking about this that you forgot to say anything to Mark until after you were alone in your room. The mirror was gone, and it looked like someone had been over the carpet with a vacuum to get any remaining pieces up.

Still, you felt uneasy that night and through the next day, and by the time evening came around again you had started to notice some things. Like how Mark never seemed to let you out of his sight, always making some excuse to be in the same room or to leave at the same time as you. And how Dr. Iplier, who rarely ventured out of the infirmary outside of movie night and for some meals, started to make a habit of “just dropping by” in whatever room you happened to be in to make some awkward conversation with one of the egos, usually giving them some bad news without thinking much of it. If either one was trying to be subtle about how they were watching you, they were failing in incredible ways.

They weren’t the only ones who were keeping an eye on you. After all, the other egos knew about Dark now and his connection to you in particular, and so they were being almost weirdly nice to you at every opportunity. Of course, some of them had their own definition of nice, like how Yan thought showing you some of her favorite pictures of Senpai would cheer you up, or Silver and Jackieboy offering to take you with them on one of their missions (Mark quickly shut that one down).

Between it all, you thought someone would say something after you had two memory lapses that day, once blanking out an entire meal—you remember sitting down at the table, and then three hours later you were playing Fortnite with Bing and Chase and somehow winning, which was surprising for multiple reasons—and then another, shorter lapse during a movie you were watching with Jameson and Bim, turning a two hour movie into a really confusing 15 minute short.

But no one mentioned a thing, just as Mark didn’t say anything about the phone calls he took or the text messages he was sending, even though you clearly saw one of them was a picture of you, sent to what looked suspiciously like Abe’s phone number.

With no one talking about the memory lapses and everyone treating you like you were a fragile thing or someone getting over a really bad breakup that could snap at any moment, you couldn’t relax and if anything it was making you that much more anxious and nervous. It really wasn’t a surprise that you woke up in the middle of the night with no hope of getting back to sleep.

The house was so quiet and empty as you walked downstairs that it felt surreal. Again you felt that sensation of everything not quite there, to the point that even the creak of the floorboards beneath your feet sounded muffled and distant in the silence. It was like walking through a dream as you went to the kitchen in search of the tea the Host recommended the other night and found Chef Iplier standing in the middle of the room holding what looked suspiciously like the flamethrower/chainsaw prop from that FNAF musical Mark was in, facing down the pool of yellow liquid which since the last time you were here had expanded past the hazard signs and almost completely dissolved the mop abandoned to it. There were even splashes of it on the ceiling now.

Except a prop wouldn’t have been able to shoot a very real flame at the liquid, which bubbled and made a terrible shrieking noise as it tried to escape back down the sink from whence it came.

The battle was still raging in the kitchen when someone came across you sitting on the stairs, a cold cup of tea between your hands which you hadn’t taken a sip of yet.

“There you are, Y/N! I was just about to see if you wanted to go roller-skating!”

You blinked when you realized the booming voice was directed at you, but before you could look up the man it belonged to was suddenly crouched down in front of you so that you were on the same level. His eyes were crinkled, probably from his large smile beneath his big, fluorescent pink mustache, but they seemed sad at the same time like he could just as easily start crying.

“Hey now, what’s with the long face?”

You opened your mouth as if to answer but no sound came out.

The man took the cup of tea from your unresisting hands and sniffed it. “Well, there’s your problem! This stuff will put you right to sleep, what’s the good of that?”

And without a second thought he threw the cup over his shoulder and, ignoring the crashing sound behind him, pulled you up to your feet and threw an arm around your shoulder. “The night is young, Y/N! There’s got to be something we can do to cheer you up!”

“I was…” It was so hard to speak, to piece the thoughts together. “I was going to get some tea.”

Wilford tilted his head and looked at you again, so close that you could see every individual hair in his mustache, and said with every ounce of seriousness, “Tea is overrated.”

He seemed surprised when you pulled away, shaking your head when he tried to come closer, and said, “It happened again, didn’t it? I was just in the kitchen, and I saw—No, that couldn’t have—”

You turned at the sound of another shriek from whatever was in the kitchen followed by a rush of roaring fire and put your hands to your head.

Wilford gently pried your hands away and said, “Come on, tell old Warfstache what’s wrong.”

You stared at him for a moment and said, “Everything.”

Wilford led you on a slow walk around the house while you told him everything Dark had said, how you were fading, how you kept losing track of time and forgetting things. Forgetting your friends.

“Well, we all forget things,” Wilford said. “Look at me, I’ve been around ages probably, and I can’t even remember all of the things I’ve forgotten.”

“But sometimes it’s like I can’t even tell what’s real anymore,” you said, and when he shrugged again you stopped to face him. “Wilford, you don’t understand, it’s like—I’ve heard what I was like before, when no one knew what I would remember from one day to the next, when I couldn’t speak, or-or even knew who I was, and sometimes it feels like I’m that again. I forgot you!”

The door shot open behind Wilford and an ego you had never seen before stuck his head out and glared at you and Wilford. Dressed in an olive green button-up shirt and wearing round glasses, his mouth twisted in disgust, he sniffed and said, “If you two think you can be wandering around at this hour, not on my watch! I am not going to stand for—”

Without even looking, Wilford placed a hand square in the man’s face and pushed him back through the door before slamming it shut on his sputtering face.

“Who was that?!”

“Don’t worry about it, Harold’s barely even canon,” Wilford said, kicking the door for good measure.

“But—How long has he been here? I don’t even—” You broke off, shaking your head as you backed away again. “What happens when that’s Bim, or Jameson or you, and the memories don’t come back? What if—”

The words caught in your throat as Wilford pulled you into a hug. You didn’t resist but you didn’t return it either, your hands hanging limp at your sides as he pulled back, his hands still on your shoulders. This close, you could see the pink tinge outlining the brown in his crinkled eyes as he said, “Memories are a funny thing. I’ve forgotten _so much_, Y/N. I’ve even forgotten the people I cared about more than anything! But the one thing I’ve always found is that the important things, the things that matter most, they come back when they need to. Maybe not when you want them to, and not always before you shot someone maybe you shouldn’t have shot, but…”

Wilford paused and the pink in his eyes disappeared as he admitted, “I may have lost the point there. Sorry.”

This time you were the one who pulled him in for a hug, both of you ignoring the banging and complaining coming from behind the door as Harold realized he couldn’t get it to open from his side. You weren’t sure if Wilford was right, but for now you wanted to believe him more than anything.


	16. Silent Scream

Dark leaned back in his chair, staring at nothing in particular. Not that there was much to stare at beyond the edge of this imitation of his desk aside from the darkness that surrounded him, but for a moment he could see his office again, his real office. He knew the moment you entered the room, he’d used Celine’s old crystal ball to watch as Abe and Mark went through his belongings while you and Wilford looked on, his fury growing with every passing second.

Not about the intrusion or the papers taken, although that was an insult he had no plans to forget. No, there was nothing in those papers that could help them, and the longer they spent chasing rabbit trails, the easier this would be. The problem was that they _just wouldn’t forget you_.

Every time, _every time_ it just kept coming back. He should have had you crawling to him for help days ago, the minute Wilford forgot your name and that Detective scoffed at the idea of making some district attorney his partner. But then he just _had_ to have that picture of you in his wallet, and Wilford—

Well, planning around Wilford was like trying to plan around a hurricane, but the others should have been easy. The Chef and the Butler barely took any effort, but even Tyler had remembered you when he finally saw you.

Dark could make them all forget time and time again, but it was becoming clear that he needed something more to get the point across to you.

He spread out the tarot cards on his desk, careful not to disturb the workings he had set up from Celine’s little bag of tricks, and picked out the Fool card to study it.

Mark. Even now he was trying so hard to find a way to fix this, to keep in touch with the others to make sure they remembered, to keep your hopes up. Sure that if he just kept you close, then he couldn’t possibly forget like the others. He had been holding out for far longer than Dark would have thought possible, but it was still almost funny how wrong a person could be.

Dark’s aura, almost completely red now, spread up from his fingertips to envelop the card as though it had just been set on fire. He smiled to himself as he focused his power and waited for just the right moment to make you see just how much you needed him.

* * *

After your talk with Wilford and a walk outside, you made your way back up to your room. It was still early, but by the sound of it more of the egos were up and moving around the house. You assumed that it was one of them whose voice you heard as you neared the top of the stairs, until you heard Amy’s voice as well.

“Why would you not go? You can’t just back out on everybody, and we were already planning on taking them—”

“I can’t risk it.” You recognized it as Mark’s voice before you rounded the corner and spotted both of them standing alone in the hall, just outside of the Host’s room. “Amy, I think it happened again yesterday. They haven’t said anything, but I’ve talked to the doctors and—”

He stopped as Amy gave him a look and turned around. Judging by the way they were both looking at you, you guessed that until now they both thought you were still asleep in your room.

Well, Mark had noticed your memory lapses. You thought about pretending like you hadn’t heard what they were saying, but then you came out with it and said, “Mark, if you need to go somewhere, go. I’ll be fine here with the egos.”

“I can’t do that!” Mark said. “PAX is all weekend, we’re going to be gone for days, what if something happens?”

“It’s just for a few days,” you said, wishing you didn’t have to be the one making this argument. You would have loved nothing more to go to PAX with them, but Mark was right. What if you just blanked out in the middle of the convention center? Woke up somewhere else, no idea where everyone else was? It wasn’t like they could just keep you locked away in the hotel room or put you on a toddler leash.

“A few days ago, you were okay and our only problem was a broken-down old van,” Mark pointed out. “A lot can happen.”

“You have a phone, we can always call you. Plus, Marvin is getting better with the whole teleporting thing, he can bring you back here in a second if he needs to,” you said.

Mark grimaced at the idea, but Amy told him, “Mark, you have to make up your mind eventually. The others are going to be here soon, and we were all going to drive up together.”

“It doesn’t really start until tomorrow, so maybe I could…” Mark groaned and covered his eyes, trying to think.

“Others?” you asked.

“Seán wanted to drop by and see his egos before he left,” Amy said. “He’s going to be busy with PAX stuff and another show before he flies home, so it might be a while before he has time to see them again.”

Which meant if you weren’t going with them, this might be your last chance to see Jack and Robin before they left too.

The thought made the reunion later bittersweet, although you couldn’t help but smile when all of the Septic egos piled on Jack the second he stepped through the door in a loud, rowdy mass that dragged Ethan, Robin, and even you into it before they allowed everybody in. Some of the Iplier egos, like Silver Shepherd and Bing, joined you all in the living room where they all tried to fill Jack and the others in on what they had been up to while they were here, and Jack shared some of the projects he’d worked on while he was in LA.

While Jackieboy and Silver told everyone about their mission from the other night (which seemed to have gained a few more bad guys and clever one-liners since they told it to you), you noticed the way Mark watched Jack with his egos. To you he almost looked, well, jealous of how easily they seemed to get along.

You thought about how it wasn’t that long ago that Mark avoided being in the same building as his own egos. Sure, he was still uncomfortable around Google and a couple of the others, but compared to back then? He would have laughed at the idea of staying overnight here and you couldn’t see him just playing a friendly game with Bing and Chase or helping the Jims with editing like he had yesterday.

When Mark stood up and said something about getting a drink from the kitchen, you followed him with the idea of telling him just that. Inside the kitchen, there was a noticeable lack of hazard signs or suspicious goo, and it looked like someone had mopped the floor and cleaned the counters since the last time you were here. The chainsaw flamethrower was sitting on the counter though, looking like an accident waiting to happen.

“Hey Mark?” you said.

Mark jumped back from the open door of the fridge and spun around to stare at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…” You trailed off as you realized that wasn’t just a normal “didn’t know you were there” kind of reaction.

_No._

“Who are you?”

The question hit you so hard you felt it in your chest.

_This can’t be happening._

You barely felt Amy’s hand on your arm as she came up behind you, a comforting squeeze as she said, “Mark, this is Y/N. You know them.”

Mark looked at you again, but there was still nothing there. You tried to speak, to say something, but you couldn’t do this. Not with him.

Amy let you go, saying she would talk to him, but you were already out of the room and making your way up the stairs. Down in the living room, Robin looked around at the sound of your footsteps but got just a glimpse of you out in the hall.

“Huh, I wonder where Y/N is going,” he said.

“Be nice if they were packing to come with us,” Ethan said and Jack nodded.

Silver surprised the others when he looked around and then asked, “Who’s Y/N?”

You paused at the second floor and made the split second decision to go that way, but when you turned the corner you were stopped by two egos, Bim Trimmer and Ed Edgar.

“Whoa there, pardner, where do you think you’re going?” Ed asked, catching you before you could run into them.

“I…” You hadn’t been thinking about going anywhere. “To see the Host, I need to talk to him.”

“Huh,” Bim said. “That’s strange, the Host doesn’t normally get visitors.”

“…Visitors?”

“Bein’ of the gentlemanly sort, I can show you the way,” Ed offered. “Say, how do you feel about babies?”

Bim saw your horrified expression and practically facepalmed. “Ed, we’ve talked about this, you can’t just start a sales pitch like that, you need to establish a connection first. Like I do with contestants and some of the less disposable interns. Speaking of, there’s an opening if you—”

He stopped when he realized that you were gone and Ed snorted and said, “Right, ‘connection.’ Way to ruin the conversation.”

You heard the two of them bickering as you ran up the stairs to the third floor.

_“Do you think when Mark forgets you, those worthless copies will too?”_

The breath caught hard in your throat when you recalled Dark’s words and you dove through the first door you came to on the third floor. There were glass walls on either side of the conference room, but you didn’t care who saw you anymore as you sank into the nearest chair and buried your head in your arms.

The large flat screen TV on the wall turned on by itself and filled with static. The buzz of the static filled the room before it slowly filtered away, the static forming into the image of Dark although the occasional line ran across the screen like it was an old VHS recording. On the screen he seemed even less stable than he did in person, with multiple red, blue, and green afterimages just slightly out of sync with his movements as he straightened his collar and then clasped his hands behind his back.

“Such a shame,” he said, noticing the small pause in your shaking shoulders at the sound of his voice before another sob made its way out. “How the people we care about the most can hurt us so much.”

He paused, waiting for a response, but none came.

“Take your time,” Dark said softly, his voice reverberating on itself. “You have plenty of it. After all, no one is looking for you.”

You still didn’t look up.

“Of course, you already know there’s a way to stop this,” Dark said. “It’s your choice. Fade, or let me help you.”

_“Choice?”_

Dark seemed visibly surprised by the tone of your voice, and he stared as you stood up and faced him, not even bothering to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“What choice? I didn’t get to _choose_ any of this! You _stole_ my body and locked me away in a mirror for years! Mark didn’t ask me before he took that piece of the mirror and look what that did to me! The only choice I had was to break that mirror before you let me go back in there again for who knows how long, and now…I didn’t choose this, to have my own friends not even know who I am! And you know what’s worse? As much as it hurts when they forget me, I know it’s the same for them when I look them in the eye and have no clue who they are, and it just keeps happening and I-I can’t–”

You stopped as another choking sob came out. You didn’t even care that Dark could see you crying, and your tears kept you from seeing the very real confusion on his face as the image on the screen stuttered.

Dark stared at you, his mind working quickly. Something was wrong, very wrong. His workings had been designed to affect the memories of those from the party, the people who he associated most with those cards of Celine’s. You losing your memory was never part of the plan. He wanted desperation, to cut you off from the others so he could turn that on them later. He wanted his District Attorney, not that silent echo from a year ago.

“Y/N,” he said softly, and then louder as you turned away to leave, but you were stopped as you walked into the arms of someone else.

You blinked and Jameson Jackson came into focus, his face full of concern as he handed you an embroidered handkerchief and pulled you into a silent hug.

_“It’s okay,”_ his speech slide said, rubbing your back with his hand as the tears started again. _“I’m here.”_

Over your shoulder, he made eye contact with Dark and reached down with his other hand to pull something out of his pocket that caught the light. It was a strange shape, flat one side and jagged on the other. The moment Dark recognized it as a piece of a mirror, _the_ mirror, Anti winked and the audio cut out on the TV.

Dark’s image screamed silently as “Jameson” continued to comfort you, letting you lean into his hug for as long as you needed before leading you out of the room. At the door, you both seemed to glitch for a second before you disappeared, with no sign of either of you on the other side of the glass wall. Dark screamed again, the blue and red of his aura lashing out until the static reached a fever pitch, causing the screen to crack and go dark.

In his prison of darkness, the aura did not stop there and continued to rage, knocking over the desk and scattering Celine’s trinkets as it threatened to break through into Wilford’s reality. Anti, that glitch had used _him_, let him make the others forget all about you, let him get you to this point while nudging you that much farther along, and he had a piece of the mirror—

“I know, I know!” Dark said as his aura became washed in blue, his voice resonating in the darkness around him as if multiple voices were speaking at once to someone else as he promised, **_“We will get them back.”_**

He would make Anti pay over and over in increasingly creative ways for going back on their deal before he could do it first, for taking something that belonged to him, **_his District Attorney_**, and for forcing Dark to this point.

Dark looked down at the heap of cards and found the one that always reminded him of Wilford. Or rather, of the Colonel. Then, he prepared himself for the agony of acknowledging that he needed help.


	17. Enjoy the Show

“ Wͮ̃͗ͪ̂a̐͒͐̈́̎k͛͆ͪ̍̃͒̚éͧ̎̆͊͊͡ ̍uͤp̌, Y/N.”

You groaned as pain shot through your head and opened your eyes. It was completely dark except for a sickly green light that flickered erratically and seemed to come out of the man crouched down in front of where you were lying on what felt like a cold stone floor. It was hard to focus your eyes on him, and not just because of your splitting headache. You didn’t think he was moving, but at the same time there was a constant motion around him, as if sometimes a limb or his head would move and twitch back into place in the space of a millisecond, gone as fast as you registered it.

Even in his black shirt and dark jeans he seemed awash with that green light and bursts of static, but your eyes were drawn most of all to the scar across his neck. Looking at it, you could feel a sharp pain in your own neck, as well as a dull ache in your chest.

“You don’t know w͞ho ̵I͟ ̢am, do you?” he said, his voice…strange, higher than you expected with the occasional echo or distortion around certain words. He moved closer and you immediately pulled back, but your shoulders hit a brick wall behind you. “Don’t do that, I’m your f̥̦̥r̴̯̼͇i̮̼̪͖̻͍͢e̤n̞͈͓d͢. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” is what you tried to ask, but the words were lost before they reached your throat. Another sudden stab of pain made your vision blur and darken.

“S̩h̦͍͈̦̙h, don’t strain yourself. The others aren’t even here yet, and they wouldn’t want to miss seeing you. We have so much we need to do.” He paused and then smiled as if at some joke as he added, “Until then, g͕̫̜̗̙̒̇̇̒̇̚o͕͂̀̈̂̈ ̩͚̜ͥḅ͉̮͚̩ͪ̑â͊̊c̗̒kͪ t͊͛̈o͉͓̼̺̞͙ͅ ͉̭̊́s͑͌le͂è̲͉̪̯̅ͬ͒̐pͪ͗.”

You didn’t have the strength to do anything else but close your eyes. You could still see that green light even with your eyes closed and your mind moved slowly through his words. _Others. Others like him?_

You immediately had an image of him in your mind, but in doctor’s scrubs, or dressed up with a bowler hat, or wearing a ridiculous red onesie with a hood—

_No_, you thought, _they’re not like Anti._

The second that thought crossed your mind your eyes shot open.

Anti. The thought of him being that close to you was enough to make your stomach turn, even without everything he said.

But he wasn’t there. There was just a gloomy darkness with enough light coming through the floorboards overhead to make out vague, darker shapes to your left like holes in the wall, and to your right a flight of stairs leading up. You reached into your pocket for your phone and realized it was gone. Great. You couldn’t call for help and you had no idea where you were, but you did know you had to get out of here before he came back.

You stood up, and immediately had to pause and lean against the wall until your head stopped spinning. Just that one movement required all your strength, and it was several seconds before you felt up to walking the short distance to the stairs and begin making your way up, pausing at every scuff of your foot or creak from up above.

At the top of the stairs what you thought was a door blocking the way up to the floor above turned out to be broken pieces of wood, haphazardly thrown over the entrance so that they didn’t really block the way. In fact, if you had to guess you might have thought it was an accident that they were there at all instead of Anti actually trying to keep you in.

When you pushed one of the pieces of wood out of the way, it partially crumbled under your touch. It smelled like ash sprinkling down around you as you moved enough out of the way to crawl through.

And up and out into the burnt remains of Markiplier Manor.

You brushed ash off of your shoulders as you looked around, trying hard not to cough, but there was no sign of Anti still. The place looked exactly the same as you left it, scorched walls and fallen rafters and far too many memories. From the wine cellar you knew the closest exit was the back door in the kitchen. From there, well, you weren’t sure. The grounds around the house were huge and overgrown, maybe you could hide until someone came looking for you.

How long had you been gone? The last thing you remembered was…It was yelling at Dark, wasn’t it? You remembered…you remembered Mark forgetting you, the egos.

There might not be anyone to look for you by now.

_Others._ Anti had said others, he expected someone to come, right? Until then, you just had to hide and stay safe, which would be easier outside than in this place. Except when you reached the door frame that once marked the entrance to the kitchen, you saw the back door was gone, burned out with more than some of the wall around it. And standing in the middle of the gaping hole was the silhouette of a man.

You had seen this before, and as you turned and that high-pitched laughter coming from not just behind you chased you into the main hall you realized there was no outrunning Anti. That laughter caused your headache to spike and you stumbled and fell over the ashen remains of what might have once been a table or stand.

“Aw, you rem̨e͡mbe͝r͞ęd͟ me!” Anti glitched into view just a few feet away from you, his hand to his chest as if shocked and pleased. He laughed again as he came closer, his body glitching and skipping a few steps in between as he said, “Maybe we can start the s̥̣͔̙h̳͙̯̣̮̫o͠w early then.”

You waited until he was as close as you dared to let him get and then shot up, swinging a broken piece of wood from the table remains with all your strength as you did so. It cracked against the side of Anti’s head and he stumbled backwards, one hand to his face.

You didn’t stay to watch how he reacted, you just ran past him toward the front door that was still barely hanging on to its hinges, but before you could even get close pain shot through your neck and chest again, just as it had the other day. Only this time it didn’t stop. You found yourself on your hands and knees, struggling to even breathe, and turned your head to look when Anti started laughing again.

His neck snapped too far to one side and then back into place as he turned his face toward you. He smiled, and when he opened his eyes they were solid black.

Now that he was sure he had your attention, he showed you what he had gripped tight in his hand: a piece of the mirror. You looked toward the broken frame and saw for the first time the other pieces, scattered and shattered into splinters and dust.

“ Fu̢nn͠y,” he said, turning it around so that it caught the light. “I would have thought Dark would have used this by now. Your soul, trapped inside a mirror. So many p͝o͜ss̵ibil̷iti҉es̴. But he was always too…ṣ̱̦̤e͉̣̱͟n͏t̨͉i̵͍̤̭̙me̗̦̙̤͜n̮̼̼̜̩̲̰͜t̖͎̭̙̮a̙̜̩̺̮̺̣l̫̣̞̘.”

“No,” you said, coughing now. It hurt so much, but you managed to get to your feet as you said, “We broke it, there’s nothing left.”

“Br҉oken͘ things can be put back together,” Anti said. He looked at the remains of the mirror frame and said, “Well, unless you do it right. I w̗̰̭͎̳̹̤o͓̭̞̞ͅn͉d̬͢e̘̯̥̝r̠̙͚̜̙̗̳͜ what will happen when the last of the pieces are gone.”

He grinned, his black eyes still on you as his voice changed and grew even more inhuman. “Want ̵to͡ ̨fi̕n̢d̨ o͞ut?”

“…Not really,” you said, backing away from him and toward the front door. You couldn’t run, you could barely even stand, but you weren’t about to play his games.

You blinked and Anti was gone, but his voice came from behind you.

“Com҉e͡ ͟cl̡os͘er.”

An arm went around your body, pinning your arms to your sides as he pressed the jagged edge of the mirror against your throat. But it wasn’t the sharp edge that hurt as much as the glitches and static around him which burned and stung at his touch.

To your surprise, you heard a sharp intake of breath from Anti, as if he were hissing in pain as well, and he suddenly pushed you away, further into the house. His voice sounded forced, angry as he said, “But we can’t start just yet, not until—”

“Good evening, everybody!”

If you thought you were surprised before, it was nothing compared to what Anti felt when that familiar bellow was followed by the front door’s final hinge giving up the ghost as it was slammed open, just so happening to take the glitch down with it.

“I’m Wilford Warfstache,” he declared as he walked in, stepping on top of the door as he did so, “And you’re about to see how we get things started.”

He strolled over to you while behind him Mark, Abe, and Jack pulled the door up, only to find the floor beneath it empty.

“Y͑ͭ͗̃ͧoų͑̽̐̿̏,” Anti said, appearing between you and Wilford. He twirled the broken piece of mirror between his fingers as he ran his now green eyes over the four men in front of him before stopping on Jack. “There’s my fa͜v̷o̵rit͠e̶ host! But this is all you brought? How…p̵̳aț̜̩̱̬̱̱he̳̦͕̞͈͞t̢̜̗̺ͅi̤̝̩̬̘̻c.”

“No, this is what you would call the advance guard,” Wilford said, his eyes taking on a pink glow as raised his eyebrows at Anti with a smile.

A crash came from the kitchen at the same time there was a puff of green smoke at the top of the stairs, and there were clear sounds of movement down the hall and in what remained of the living room. Anti barely turned his head to acknowledge the others as Marvin, the King of the Squirrels, and Yandereplier looked over from the second floor, Dr. Schneeplestein, Dr. Iplier, Ed Edgar, and Bim Trimmer emerged from the kitchen, Jameson Jackson, the Jims, Chase, and Bing came from one end of the hall while Jackieboy Man, Silver Shepherd, Google, and the Host came from the other.

Surrounded on all sides, Anti just laughed and said, “Now this is more like it! Who wants to go fir̸st?”

** _“Dibs.”_ **

The crack of Dark’s fist hitting Anti was audible throughout the entire room. Anti popped his jaw and smiled, not even trying to move away from the second blow that caught him in the stomach.

“They let you out,” Anti said. He put a hand to his lip and examined the blood there before turning solid black eyes on Dark. “I would have loved to see you b̶͎̪͍͕ẹ̙̭̟g̙̻̫͖̬.”

Dark’s aura expanded as he tackled Anti, the darkness spreading out and clinging to the glitch, trying to hold him in place as Anti fought back, his glitches making him hard to hold still or keep in one place long enough to hit.

While they fought, the egos stayed in place, blocking any possible exit, and Mark, Abe, and Jack went straight to you, Wilford getting there first.

“Steady now,” he said as you swayed on your feet, still watching as the two continued to fight, a mix of green static and darkness tinged with red and blue. “Don’t slip away just yet.”

“We’ve got you, Partner,” Abe said, his arm around your shoulder as he placed himself between you and the fighting. “What did he do to you?”

Anti smiled when he heard the question and paused, holding up the piece of mirror as he did so. A lace of green static spilled across the surface and you immediately doubled over with a scream.

Dark froze, his aura shrinking down to a mere outline as he turned to look at you.

You heard voices calling and looked up into a swirl of faces that spun and settled.

“Y/N,” Mark said, down on his knees in front of you now. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You looked back at him, eyes blank and confused behind the pain, and opened your mouth as if to answer, but no sound came out.

You flinched as Abe and Wilford pulled out their guns and fired on Anti in rapid succession, but none of the bullets seemed to hit. Still, it gave Dark a chance to get to you, ignoring the look on Mark’s face as he put a hand on your shoulder and stared into your eyes.

His aura pulsed and spread, through his hand and into you like a cold wave that sent shivers down your spine and made you want to pull away, but his grip was too tight.

“This will work,” he said, pushing Mark away when he tried to intervene. “It has to. Y/N, do you know who I am?”

You stared back at him and your eyes flickered for just a moment before you shoved him away as hard as you could. Anti’s knife flashed as it passed through where Dark’s back was just a second ago, but it still caught his shoulder and the side of your arm. Anti followed Dark’s movement, the blade glittering with green energy as he brought it down on him before he could dodge. The only reason he missed is because he staggered under your weight when you threw yourself at him.

He hissed again and, with a strength his body should not have been able to possess, dropped the piece of mirror in order to grab you with one hand and toss you across the room where you hit the wall and slid to the floor.

“There it is, s̽ͮ̏ͫ͛ͪé͜n͂͏t̿̅͂͌̑̄͆im͒ȩ̈̐ͯͮ̋̇͐nͧ͒ͯ̚t̓̓̚a̾̆͒̌͢lͭ͆̄,” Anti said when Dark rushed at him, noting how the other egos dropped their positions and ran in. He winked at Dark before glitching away from his punch, and Mark stopped on his way to you when Jack doubled over in pain.

For a moment, Jack’s eyes went from blue to green to black, then back to blue by the time Mark had his hand on his shoulder.

“I̶ t̕old yo͞u,” Jack said, his voice starting out high-pitched before returning to normal. “I have it under control.”

Anti reappeared for a second to snarl at Jack before he disappeared again. This time, all six of the Septic egos froze, their faces going into pained smiles as Anti’s laugh seemed to come from each of them. Dr. Schneeplestein was the first to snap out of it, mostly because Dr. Iplier immediately slapped him and said, “Are you a doctor or not?!”

“I am 100% real doctor!” Henrik responded, more out of reflex than anything. “And Anti vill not control me again!”

“G͘oo҉d for you,” Jackieboy said, his eyes green behind his mask. “Then you will get to wa͞t͞ch while I—I—”

Jackieboy struggled, his teeth gritting as he fought the words, and Marvin spoke with Anti’s voice layering in over his words, “Twist them, b̷͟r̶̨͞e̢͠ak̶̶ them. Make you bur҉n.”

Marvin’s hands glowed with green flames, but behind his mask his eyes widened and control slipped when both of the Jims, with a cry of “Demons!” tackled him to the ground. On the other side of the room, Chase was staring dead-eyed at nothing in particular as Bing spoke to him quietly before showing him some pictures of his kids that he had saved on his hard drive, causing Chase to blink and start crying. Jameson barely had a chance to open his mouth before Wilford walked over and punched him in the face.

_“I say!” _Jameson’s speech slide read. _“What was that for?”_

“You know what you did,” Wilford said, which just confused the ego even more.

“Idiot,” Dark muttered as he watched Anti’s control slip on the egos one by one.

“He can’t control us when we’re together,” Jack explained to Mark. Even though he seemed unharmed, he was still shaking from just that short time with Anti. “Not for long, there’s always something to snap us out of it. That’s why he’s always trying to separate us, get us when we’re alone.”

Mark nodded, but he was barely listening now that he knew Jack was okay. He joined Abe at your side just as the Detective was turning you over and checking to make sure you were okay. At first your eyes were closed, your breathing so shallow that Mark started to call for the doctors when you tried to speak.

“Ma…A…”

“It’s okay, don’t move,” Abe said, but you shook your head, or tried to.

“Mir…”

They both looked at the piece of mirror lying where Anti dropped it, both started to move at the same time, both flinched as all six of the Septic egos and Jack screamed at once with Anti’s frustration before he reappeared next to the fragment of mirror. He was barely there, glitching rapidly as his form struggled to keep itself together after too much time without a host, too much energy spent trying to control so many at once, but he turned the scream into laughter.

The Septic egos moved as one to tackle Anti to the ground, but not before the glitch stomped on the mirror shard and completely shattered it. The same instant that he hit the ground he disappeared, but he wasn’t the only one.

Without a sound, without a chance to even say goodbye, you were gone.


	18. Broken Things

“Y/N?” Mark stared at the place where you were just a moment ago and then looked around, as if there was anywhere you could have gone in the split second he looked away. As if you had been in any condition to get up, much less go anywhere. He saw the broken glass that was all that remained of the mirror and immediately turned to Dark. “Where are they? Where would they go?”

Dark did not answer. He just stared at the broken mirror as well, his aura subdued to the point that it was barely visible.

“Listen to me.” Abe grabbed the lapels of Dark’s jacket and pulled him closer, almost off of his feet. “The mirror is _your_ thing, so you’re going to tell us right know what that demon thing did to my partner and how we get them back.”

Dark pushed him away. “My ‘thing’, that mirror, was the only thing binding them here. There’s no power left in this house, thanks to you setting it on fire, and I couldn’t do anything to save them. The one thing keeping them here, and Anti destroyed it. What do you think that means?”

_“Well, I think it sounds like we need to start looking for them then.”_

Dark blinked away the speech slide that flashed before his eyes and turned his glare on Jameson and the rest of the egos. “I must not have made myself clear. They. Are. Gone. Y/N is…”

He trailed off and in the silence that followed the egos looked at one another before Ed Edgar shrugged and said, “Well, I ain’t got nothin’ better to do, and this place ain’t gonna search itself.”

“Search and rescue seems more like our kind of thing anyways,” Silver Shepherd said, and Jackieboy nodded in agreement before adding, “Race you to the top of the tower?”

“You’re on!”

“I can probably figure out a location spell,” Marvin muttered, pulling a very battered book out of his pocket and taking a few careful steps away from the Jims, but they already had their own plans.

“Stick with me and Jim, Dapper Jim,” Jim said, grabbing Jameson's arm and leading him toward the patio. “We know this place like the back of our Jim!”

In groups of twos and threes the egos split up and began to search Markiplier Manor, soon filling what remained of the house and the grounds outside with talking and shouting and the general mayhem that followed them everywhere they went.

Dark shook his head at them and said, “They’re wasting their time.”

“They have to try something,” Jack pointed out. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not the kind of people to just give up and go home. We’re too stupid and stubborn for that.”

“Hell yeah we are,” Mark said, giving Jack a high-five before turning to Dark and saying, “There has to be something we can do. We—Host!”

Mark spotted the ego, standing still by the doorway to the kitchen, his head tilted toward the ground as his mouth moved silently. At the sound of his name he walked over and said, “Amy, Ethan, Robin, and Tyler wait by the cars outside of the gate, watching as the King of the Squirrels attempts to question one of his subjects.”

“I forgot they were still out there,” Mark admitted, and Jack ran out to tell them what was going on. “Host, do you know where Y/N is?”

“The Host cannot sense them. The Host has always had difficulty ‘reading’ Y/N, but…” The Host fell silent and tilted his head again, this time in the direction of the shattered mirror. “You say that Anti destroyed the entire mirror?”

“It looks like it,” Mark said, and stopped the Host when he reached out for the broken glass. “You’re going to cut yourself!”

The Host shook his head but withdrew his hand. “The Host is missing something.”

Dark snorted. “As helpful as always.”

“You’re one to talk,” Abe said. “What good are you?

“Anti would have torn you all apart if I weren’t here,” Dark said.

“Darkiplier is not completely wrong,” the Host said when both Mark and Abe started to argue. “If he were not here, Anti would have focused his attacks on others. There is a chance more than one ego would have been seriously injured in the process, and he would have made an attempt on both Jack and Y/N’s lives.”

Mark narrowed his eyes at the Host and said, “You looked ahead. Did you know this could have happened, that this is how it could have turned out?”

“Yes. The Host has spent much of the past few days looking ahead, trying to—”

“You could have stopped this!” Mark said as it sank in. “Did you know about Anti? Did you know what he was doing to Y/N?”

“…Yes.”

Dark grabbed the Host by his jacket, his aura spreading out around him as he asked in a dangerously calm voice, “Then why didn’t you do anything?”

“The Host wishes to know which time Darkiplier is referring to. The Host _could _have told Y/N not to come to this place before, when Anti was following Darkiplier’s orders to get the Seer’s bag. But then, as the nightmares and visions continued and grew increasingly worse, Y/N would have gone alone, leaving them at Anti’s mercy. Instead, they asked Abe to go with them.”

Dark’s grip weakened, mainly because he was aware of the looks Mark and Abe were giving him right now, but the Host continued.

“The Host could have warned any of the others of Anti’s presence, but every path there led to Anti retaliating, to so many getting hurt, or to Dark possessing Y/N without realizing the extent of the damage already done and breaking them that way.” The Host spoke in his same monotone as he continued, “The Host saw so many ways to try to stop this, and so many ways that they could fail. The Host can only say or do so much without changing the future he is looking for. Even agreeing with Wilford to release Darkiplier could have just as easily led to him attacking the others in the room and sealing Mark in his dark reality before—”

“They don’t need to hear that.” Dark paused and admitted, “Although I did consider it.”

“So, what, this is the best future you could find?” Abe asked. He sounded just as skeptical as he had before when Wilford rounded them up and relayed Dark’s message that you were in trouble.

“That depends on what happens next,” the Host answered.

Mark was looking at Wilford, now that the Host had mentioned him. The man had been oddly quiet through all of this, and even now he stood nearby, swaying slightly on his feet and humming a little as if killing time. Extremely suspicious, Mark asked, “Wilford? Are you okay?”

Wilford stopped humming and asked, “Well, why wouldn’t I be? I’m just waiting until you’re all done here so we can go back home.”

“You’re…not worried about Y/N?” Mark asked. “You heard Dark and the Host, we don’t know where they are.”

“So?” Wilford shrugged. “It’s not the first time they’ve gone and disappeared, is it? I can’t blame them for wanting to get out of this place, I just wish they had waited for me to come along with them.”

“Wilford,” Dark said, his tone changing completely as he spoke to him directly, “There’s…a chance that Y/N isn’t coming back. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Wilford laughed at their expressions. “Why, after I shot the mirror you all thought I was crazy, but they came back then! They always come back, you’ll see.”

He turned and walked toward the door, passing Amy and Jack as he did so, and said over his shoulder on the way out, “Maybe not when you want them to, but they’ll come back when they need to.”

Dark sighed as he left and turned away, disappearing into his own darkness.

Amy took one look at Mark and pulled him into a hug, speaking quietly to him as she did so. He nodded into her hair, eyes closed as all of this started to sink in.

The moment was spoiled when the Host spoke up and said, “Wilford Warfstache approaches the cars and begins to talk Robin and Ethan into going on a joyride.”

“What?” Jack almost laughed. “They wouldn’t—”

At the sound of one of the car's engines starting up he swore and ran outside again.

Time passed and the egos kept searching, but there was no sign of you to be found. As hours stretched by it was clear they couldn’t keep looking forever, especially when some of the egos pointed out that you may not even return here. After all, they reasoned, why would you even want to come back to this place?

Mark watched as Marvin used his magic to start taking the other egos back in groups and the house began to grow quiet again.

“Mark will need to leave for PAX eventually,” the Host said, as if sensing his reluctance to leave.

“Really? I’m just supposed to go and have a good time and pretend like none of this happened?”

“The Host did not say that. But the Host believes that Wilford is right. If Y/N is to return, it will be when they are ready to. And that can take time.”

Mark sighed. “…They were supposed to come with us. Amy and I, we had it all planned out, we were going to do so much together.”

“Y/N planned to take the Host outside for fresh air,” the Host said, regret in his voice. “The Host was too concerned about what could happen to take them up on that offer.”

“It could still happen, right?” Mark asked, looking at the Host for some sign, for some confirmation.

But he was silent, his bandaged eyes turned away as the four Google units were dragged over by Amy, Bing, and Chase.

“We have an idea,” Amy said. “In case Y/N comes back when we’re not here. Tell them, Google.”

The blue Google unit, who was making a show of protest even though he could have easily kept Amy from pulling him around, said, “It is an illogical plan with a slim rate of achieving any actual results.”

“Bing and Chase came up with it,” Amy said, and Google scowled as if she had just proved his point while they both claimed Amy started it. “Even if…Even if they don’t come back, I think this would be good for everybody.”

Mark loved their idea the moment he heard it, but there was just one problem. “Something that broken though. Can it even be fixed?”

Beside him, the Host’s face turned toward what remained of the broken mirror and he sighed softly as if just realizing something.

* * *

You woke up to silence, and light in your face streaming in through a gap in a set of dark drapes that kept the rest of the sunlight from entering the dim room. You looked down at yourself, at the chair you were sitting in, at your hands, and then around at the room you found yourself in.

There was a second chair opposite you, in front of the drapes, and in between there was a round table thrown on its side. There was a also cabinet and some other furniture, but it was all hard to make out in the darkness.

You braced yourself on the arm of the chair, but despite your tight grip it felt far away, almost like it wasn’t really there. The effort of pulling yourself up onto your feet made you stagger, head spinning as you stumbled your way to the window as if you were drunk. Once there you pulled back the drapes and blinked in the bright sunlight until your eyes adjusted and you could make out a sprawling landscape as well as part of the stone walls of the massive building you were in. Down below you could see a stone patio just above a dried up pool and an overgrown golf course.

What was this place? You squinted as you stared out and then had to let your eyes readjust again when you turned around, but none of this was familiar. How did you get here?

You couldn’t remember. You reached into your pockets and felt around for something, anything to give a hint as to who you were or what you were doing here, but came up with nothing.

When you looked around again at the newly lit room, you saw the light catch something underneath the chair you had been sitting in before and you moved forward eagerly, too fast really, and braced yourself on the chair until you felt you could kneel down and take a closer look.

You almost cut your finger on the long, sharp piece of glass that you pulled out from under the chair. As you turned it you saw your reflection, just long enough to recognize it as a piece of a mirror before it crumbled beneath your touch and fell to the carpet like dust.

Pain shot through your chest and up your back and neck, so bad that you buried your face in the seat of the chair until it passed, thinking all the time that it might never end. But, eventually, it did, and when you sat back you realized that your head didn’t feel as cloudy as before. You could feel the chair, real and solid beneath your touch where before it felt like it could disappear at any moment.

As you started to get up, you noticed something else beneath the chair and, more carefully this time, reached underneath and pulled out a card.

_The Sun._ At least, that’s what it said, and it had a picture of the sun on it. You turned it around and looked it over, but it didn’t mean anything to you so you just left it on the seat of the chair and made your way out of the room.

Out in the hall, the musty smell of old spices gave way to the clear, sharp scent of ash, and you had to step carefully around holes on either side that dropped down to burnt shells of rooms down below, afraid with every creak of the wood that the floor might give out beneath you. The stairs at the end of the hall were worse, with any kind of railing burned away and more than one of the steps just an empty space that stared up at you as you made your way down.

Aside from the creaking of the wood, there was no sound in the house.

You took a deep breath to call out, but no sound came out of your mouth no matter how many times you tried.

Looking around though, you couldn’t believe there was anyone else in this place. It was just too quiet, and why would anyone be in a place like this? Why were _you_ in a place like this?

You walked toward the open door frame, ignoring the crunch of glass beneath your feet and stepping carefully over the door, wondering how it ended up inside like this but forgetting about it the moment you stepped out into the fresh air and and bright, overpowering sunlight.

The drive in front of the house was empty except for an old white van parked right in front of what remained of the building. You walked toward it, looking around as you did so, but there was no sign of anyone around.

It looked like it had been sitting here for a while; you had to use your arm to wipe some of the dust off in order to peek inside the driver’s window, where you could just make out a folded piece of paper sitting in the seat. You tried the door, but it and the passenger door were locked. The big door on the side was not and opened easily when you tried it.

Inside the van someone had actually put in wood paneling, along with a storage space in the back. There was an old dog bed in the corner, and a blanket and pillow like someone had slept back here. There was also a mini fridge with a small TV/VCR strapped to the top of it, and the pervasive smell of pumpkin and…guava?

You climbed inside to reach for the paper in the front seat, keeping a close eye on the TV as you did so. Something about it just felt…off, but it did nothing as you grabbed the paper and realized there was a key inside the fold.

The only thing written on the paper was, “For when you’re ready.”

You climbed back out of the van the way you came, staring at the paper as you slid the door shut and then paused, looking at the van again.

Someone, a lot of someones, had been writing all over this van with what looked like markers or paint, or in one case what looked suspiciously like peanut butter. Among it all, you saw your name, notes saying how much you were missed, and so, so many names.

Mark. Your Partner, Abe. Amy. Jack. Tyler. Ethan. Robin. Kathryn. Wilford Warfstache, written in huge pink letters, with “Your friend, the Colonel” added in as an afterthought. There were two “Chef”s with very different handwriting and what looked like insults aimed at each other that had been crossed out. The Host. Dr. Iplier, written next to Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, a note beneath declaring them both to be 100% qualified doctors. Silver Shepherd and Jackieboy Man. The King of the Squirrels was the source of the peanut butter, his name surrounded by what looked suspiciously like squirrel paw prints. Chase, and Bing, and Google, the last written four times in identical handwriting, just with four different colors. Marvin (the Magnificent), and Bim Trimmer, and Ed Edgar, and Yandere (with a “hearts Senpai” added next to it). Dark written in bold black ink and in two different sets of handwriting in blue and red on either side, Damien, and Celine. Jameson Jackson, the name surrounded by several Jims. Someone had even put two sets of dog prints on the van, labeling one Chica and the other Henry.

You don’t know how long you stood there, taking in all of the names, all of the messages left behind in the hopes that someone would come along and see them, before you took a deep breath, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

You knew what you had to do.

In the driver’s seat you took one last look at what remained of Markiplier Manor before putting the key in the ignition. The shell of what it had once been, windows dark and empty, gaping holes left by the fire and neglect. The shattered mirror somewhere inside. The TV from the van lying face down on the steps where you threw it. Not every broken thing could, or should, be fixed. 

But some things were worth the effort. 

There was a pause, a clank, and then the van started.


	19. Epilogue: Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like the first story in this series, Broken Memories originally didn't have an epilogue, and didn't get one until several months after Chapter 18. For the authentic "FalseRoar doesn't know how to end a story experience," feel free to wait until November before reading on.

The car doors had barely shut before Wilford came bounding out of the egos’ house to greet them. Even when he came to a stop, the man seemed to bounce on his feet with excitement as he said, “Taken you long enough to get here! The Host was starting to worry you would be late!”

“Sorry, but we had to pick Henry and Chica up first,” Amy said as she let the dogs out of the backseat of the car. She bent down to scratch Henry behind the ears as she added, “We missed these bubs so much! And you would have complained if we didn’t bring them.”

“Absolutely true,” Wilford said, bracing himself as Chica jumped up to try and lick his face. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s going to get a nice big piece of the doggy cake Chef Iplier made just for you two and Bim?”

Mark glanced at the second car pulling up into the driveway, this one with Wade, Bob, Tyler, and Ethan inside, and then looked at Wilford over the hood of his own car. “How exactly can we be late to our own party?”

“Oh, believe me, if the party’s good enough you won’t want to miss a single second,” Wilford said with a wink.

“Better than getting some sleep?” Wade asked when he caught the tail end of the conversation. “Because Perth was like 16 hours ahead of us and I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”

_“Sleep,”_ Ethan begged as Tyler dragged him out of the backseat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I feel fine,” Bob said, energy drink in hand.

Wade shook his head at that and stage-whispered to Wilford, “He’s not fine. I really don’t know how we survived the flight back.”

“Fascinating, but I can’t help but notice none of you are moving,” Wilford said, and suddenly he was behind them, ushering them inside with cries of, “Come on, come on, you lazy time travelers!”

A roar of voices met them the second they walked through the door, and Wilford led the group down the hall to the living room where all of Mark’s egos were gathered around a table topped with several cakes, the largest of which bore the words “Welcome Home!” in red and green icing. But his egos weren’t the only ones there.

“Seán? What are you doing here?!” Mark said, leaping over a sofa to greet his friend. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?!”

Jack shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t even know there was going to be a party. Marvin literally showed up with the other guys and brought me here about ten minutes ago. It was all I could do to convince him to stop and pick up Robin on the way.”

“Hi,” Robin said, barely managing to raise his arm up and wave where he was sandwiched between about four other egos on one couch. “This is surprisingly cozy. Which one of you smells like cinnamon?”

At Jack’s words, the ego wearing the cat mask shared a sly smile with Wilford, who was absolutely beaming as he watched the hugs go around.

While Jack laughed helplessly as Bob pulled him into a bear hug that made his feet leave the ground, Jameson Jackson jumped up to his feet at the sight of Amy to offer his seat to her, only for Bing to plop down into it without even noticing either of them because he was laughing too hard at something Chase had just said. The King of the Squirrels filled up a good bit of floor, rolling around as he was mobbed by the two dogs attracted by his almond butter beard, but the Host easily stepped around them and Jackieboy Man, who was also on the floor and desperately hoping to pet a dog, on his way to a seat in the corner near one of the four Googles

Said Google, the blue one, looked around the room, recording everything like his three counterparts in the other corners, just as they were asked to do. He paused at the sight of the figure standing just past the door to the kitchen, a dark figure surrounded by an aura that played brief havoc with his recording, but in his chair the Host murmured, “Google should not be concerned. He will not disrupt this celebration.”

“If the Host is sure,” Google replied, his tone suggesting otherwise, but he continued to film as the others greeted each other and soon passed into telling stories from their respective tours, Jack in Europe and Markiplier and crew in Australia, along with all the legs that came before. Jack’s story of a swan he befriended was met with Mark describing the baby kangaroo he got to feed, and before long there were a million tour bus stories going around. Despite their complaints of being tired earlier, none of them seemed to mind the audience they had in all of the egos.

Amid all of the noise and laughter, the Host began to narrate, so quietly that even Google didn’t notice the soft stream of words.

“Outside, a van sputters, its needle on E, but it has just enough gas left to pull into the driveway. The driver turns the engine off and steps out of the van…where they hesitate. The place is familiar, they know it. But they are still recovering, still unsure of their own memories, uncertain if this is where they—”

The Host’s lips stopped moving and pressed together into a thin, determined line. The chatter continued all around him, but he heard someone mention cake, followed by almost unanimous agreement.

However, the noise slowed when the Host stood up and asked, “May the Host say some words first?”

Mark, surprised because the Host rarely raised his voice, much less spoke in front of groups, looked around at the others before saying, “Sure, go ahead.”

The Host smiled and turned to face the room at large. “This party is to celebrate homecomings. Our creators, our family, have been doing incredible things over this past year. You have all moved outside of your comfort zones and in the process created shows to be proud of for your fans. With the end of both the How Did We Get Here? tour and the You’re Welcome tour, you have all completed major milestones in your lives.

“Many of us don’t remember how you started out. We haven’t seen every obstacle you have had to overcome to get to where you are today, but we are proud of how far you have come. That is why the egos wished to celebrate how much you’ve grown, together. That is why the Host and others here worked to have _everyone_ here for this, so that we can say it together:

“Welcome home, Seán.”

The Septic egos cheer loudest, of course.

“Welcome home, Mark. Amy. Wade. Bob. Ethan. Tyler.”

But the sheer number of Iplier egos rivaled the noise as everyone cheered and clapped to each name, some even stomping their feet. The Host had to wait for a pause before speaking again.

“And welcome home, Y/N.”

Silence fell over the room as everyone followed the Host’s smile to you, standing there in the doorway.

You look just as they last saw you, before Anti shattered that piece of the mirror. Tired, the same clothes, bruises as fresh as though it was just yesterday, tears prickling the corner of your eyes at the sight of everyone, together.

And you?

You don’t know how long it’s been for them. You didn’t know, when you pulled into the driveway, who would even be here.

But, as the room erupts into noise and everyone moves to sweep you in at once, you do know one thing:

You’re finally home.


End file.
